Finding Beauty in Negative Spaces
by WyrdaBrisingira
Summary: Lory, a clairvoyant, could be just the thing to make the Winchester boys' job easier, and could certainly make Dean's life easier, but nothing is ever easy, is it? Summary sucks. DEANxOC, SAMxRUBY Please read and review. I need reviews!
1. Why DID the chicken cross the road?

"Because EVERYONE knows that Ranch dressing is the most versatile condiment in the world," replied Dean, turning his head toward his brother and wagging his finger with an excessive amount of passion, "and anyone who tells you different is just a freakin-"

"DEAN, LOOK OUT!"

Just as he watched Sam's eyes stretch with horror, Dean whipped his head toward the road, his own eyes following suit as he punched the brakes. The tires screamed as they decelerated, but at a rate that didn't seem quite fast enough. The vintage car, wheels locked, slid ever closer to the figure that stood glued to the road. The vehicle finally halted, which caused both Winchester brothers to slam forward- Sam into the dashboard, and Dean into the wheel.

"Son of a bitch-" he groaned, touching his fingers to the throbbing spot on his forehead, feeling blood.

Leaning out the window he shouted, "Are you crazy, lady?"

Sam turned to his brother in disbelief.

"Are you kidding me? You almost killed her!"

"Why did the chicken cross the road in the middle of the night?" Dean ejected, "Because it was crazy!"

She remained silent, her portly frame trembling. Her eyes were wide like small moons imbedded into her round, brown face which shined with sweat. Sam took the initiative to be the first to step out of the car. Rolling his eyes, Dean followed as his brother approached her..

"Miss, are you all right?" he asked, extending his hand.

The girl recoiled, letting out a small, frightened peeping sound. Her eyes darted between the brothers before she began to back away. Sam continued to approach, but with a slow caution, presenting his palms. He examined her in her pajamas, robe and bare feet.

"I'm not going to hurt you. We just wanted to know if you were-"

His eyes trailed after her as she bounded across the asphalt, and she disappeared into the tree line beyond the shoulder of the other side of the road.

"Okay..?" Dean piped, raising his eyebrows and poking out his lips.

Sam stayed in his spot, his face holding its own look of bewilderment.

"That was weird…"

"Too bad it's not our kind of weird," Dean said with a tone that dismissed any further involvement.

The driver's side door slammed.

"Come on, Sammy," said Dean to his baby brother, "Lancaster awaits. We got some ghosts to open up a can of whoop-ass on."

As Sam slid into the passenger's seat, he turned to his brother.

"You're just gonna leave her? Obviously, she was running from something. She could need our help."

With a sigh, he replied, "Sammy-Boy, the kind of help she needs involves a padded cell and a few volts of electricity. It's not in our jurisdiction, all right? If it was a beastie-related thing, she probably would have asked us to help her."

With a flick of his hand, he turned on the ignition.

"Damn near wrecked my baby…" he mumbled, stroking the dashboard.

Sam raised an eyebrow at him.

"And she almost got herself hit too," Dean added as he pulled off.

"I don't know, man… I mean, she looked… troubled…"

"If by 'troubled' you mean 'out of her mind' then you're absolutely spankin' right. She was right out of 'Girl, Interrupted' except she wasn't hot like Angelina Jolie… or Winona Rider… More like Brittany Murphy before she had sex with Eminem."

"Dean…" trailed Sam, staring out the window.

"Huh?"

The car slowed into a stop just before a small side road.

"'The Darcy Home'," Sam read from the decrepit wooden sign, which tilted slightly to the left, "Sounds like some sort of…"

"Insane asylum?"

Dean's face twisted into a smug frown as the youngest Winchester scoffed and rolled his eyes, He looked back at the sign, and to the mansion that sat beyond the side road, atop a hill.

"Why does that name sound so familiar?"

His brother sat a hand upon his shoulder briefly before stepping on the gas again.

"Come on, Sam. I'll buy you a cheesesteak."


	2. I see dead people

"Hey, Dean, what's a 'stromboli'?" Sam asked across the booth, his nose buried in a menu.

"How am I supposed to know?" he replied irritably, sticking his neck out so that he wouldn't lose sight of a particularly round backside attached to a leggy waitress.

"Because you're the food guy."

"Yeah, well, you're the tech guy. Wiki, bitch."

His lips curled into a grin, mentally thanking whoever picked out the short, checkered uniform. He took a sip of his coke.

"Goddamn, that's a whole lot of juicy."

Rolling his eyes, Sam flipped the menu over.

"You know, women weren't placed here solely for your sexual pleasure right?"

"Of course not. Who else would make me sandwiches?"

Laughing at the look of disgust on Sam's face, Dean digressed.

"Kidding! Would you grow a pair? And I don't mean breasts, Samantha." he quipped before taking another glance at the waitress, then averted his attention back to his brother to whisper slyly, "Hey, don't look now, but Booty McGee is coming this way."

And indeed, Booty McGee, whose nametag read "Olivia" stopped right before their booth, smiling politely, but not without force.

"Are you guys ready to order yet?"

Dean put on his ladies' man sideways smirk looking her over, finding her front as appealing as her behind.

"Yes, I'll have the buffalo wings. Extra spicy."

Her plastered smile remained before she turned to the youngest Winchester.

"And you, sir?"

"Uhm, actually..." he looked back over the menu for a brief second, "could you tell me what's in your stromboli?"

"Sam, just order something you know about. Don't waste the pretty lady's time," Dean chided before smiling back up at her.

"No, no, sir, it's fine," she said dismissively to Dean before turning to Sam and beginning, "It's like a giant pizza pocket. You can get it with steak or chicken or pepperoni, veggies… Whatever you like…"

Both Winchesters stared, almost mesmerized as she began to nibble the cap of her pen, giving Sam pretty much the same look as Dean had given her.

"Well, uhm, that- that sounds great…" Sam stammered, wishing he were the pen, "Steak stromboli, it is. Thank you."

She took a brief moment to scribble it down on her pad.

"All right. It'll be coming right up," she winked at him before slinking away.

"Damn straight, it will…" sighed Dean, moistening his lips as his eyes trailed after her before saying finally, "Oh yeah, she wants me."

Sam glared a little before whipping out his pocket-sized, leather-bound notebook.

"Okay, so here's what we know about this ghost so far…" he began, scanning over the weathered-looking pages.

Dean leaned forward a little.

"It's a domestic haunting," Sam continued, "and it's female. Appears to be a teenage girl… oldish clothing- say, Victorian?"

"We got a name?"

"Yeah, Dean, she introduced herself to the family while she was welcoming them to the neighborhood. Baked them a pie too."

"Ah, you're funny- not really. So, what, is this thing violent or just creepy?"

"Apparently both. David Fisher said that at first, everything was fine. He felt the presence but nothing really malignant was going on. Then his girlfriend moved in and there was this… disturbance in the force. And then they got married and all hell broke loose. And now they've got a baby."

"Hell hath no fury like a ghost bitch scorned."

Olivia "Booty McGee" returned shortly, balancing two oblong platters on her arms.

"Anything else I can get you guys?" she asked as she set one before each Winchester.

"No, thank you. I'm all set," smiled Sam politely.

"Actually…" began Dean, "I was wondering if I might be able to, uh, get your number?" and he ended with a sideways smile.

"Sorry, sir. That's not on the menu."

Sam's mouth formed a smug little "O" as Dean watched her saunter away in complete disbelief. Baby Winchester grinned in satisfaction before tucking into his food.

"Shut up," he said finally, scowling dangerously at Sam.

"I didn't say anything," he replied innocently through a full mouth, "Damn, this is good stromboli." snickered Sam before dodging the celery stick launched at his head.

The Winchester boys filled their stomachs, Sam leaving a healthy tip (because he came for a meal and got a comedy show) before preparing to hit the road again- this time, to find a place to lay their heads for the night.

"Can we get a room with a bed that has Magic Fingers?" asked Dean as he pulled out of the parking lot, "My back's a little stiff."

Sam stared intently out the window, furrowing his brow.

"No way."

"Well, gosh, what did Magic Fingers ever do to you?"

"No, Dean. Look. Is that..?"

"No way. Twice in the same night? It's not possible."

The round, brown girl in the smiley face pajamas trudged barefoot just beyond the shoulder of the road, Her head hung as she stared down at+

-her probably throbbing feet. It hadn't seemed as though she'd given the car beside her a second thought.

"Dean…"

"No, Sam. No, no, no- We are NOT picking her up."

They began to speed up, passing the girl.

"Dean, have a little compassion. It's cold out there. She's barefoot."

"What part of 'Not our problem' don't you understand? She escaped from the nuthouse! She ran from us once already."

"We don't know that for sure," Sam began earnestly, "Besides, we risk our lives to help people every day. What are we risking by giving this poor girl a ride? It's the least we can do. You almost ran her over."

Cutting his eyes angrily at his brother, Dean threw the car into reverse and Sam rolled down the window.

"Excuse me, Miss…"

Her head popped up and she cocked her head to the side, giving the youngest Winchester an intent, discerning stare.

"We're really sorry about earlier," he continued, waxing discomfort the longer she stared at him, "We're not perverts or anything. We just wanted to know if you needed a ride someplace?"

She stared at him for an intense moment which seemed like an eternity to both Sam and Dean, before beginning to speak in a low, wispy voice.

"…I…I ran earlier… I'm sorry. I was afraid. I sensed something dark in you."

Dean's brow furrowed and he and Sam exchanged quick glances.

"Excuse me?" Sam faltered.

"The presence inside you… The darkness. It was all I could see. But it's only a small part of you. You're both good people. You do good things. You help people…people like me."

"I don't follow…"

The girl shuffled in her shaky way to the car, the boys' eyes growing wider the nearer she drew. She leaned in close to Sam, and he leaned back a little.

"I see dead people."


	3. Sam's Big Bang Theory

"Come again, Haley Joel?" Dean quipped, arching one of his eyebrows.

"Spirits," the girl continued, "The souls of the deceased- ghosts…demons…That's what I saw in you," she directed to Sam, "even though you're not evil, I don't think. I don't really understand how that is…"

"You don't wanna know," he said, cutting her off. "Hop in and we'll talk. You must be freezing."

The girl gratefully clamored in the back seat.

"Thank you," she nodded to them. "Like I was saying, I'm a clairvoyant. I see spirits. I sense vibes from people. Sometimes I have visions. That's how I knew you two were good."

"My name is Sam. This is Dean, my brother," he began before turning in his seat to face the girl, extending his hand.

She took it with a soft, weak grip.

"Dolores Fletcher. Everyone calls me Lory."

Dean examined her through the rearview mirror, his brow furrowing intently. There was an uneasy feeling in his gut, which was not to be attributed to the fifteen Buffalo wings he just ate. Lory's eyes caught his in the mirror, which made him jump a little. The girl smiled and he nodded, averting his eyes and pulling off.

"If you don't mind me asking," began Sam, "where are you headed this time of night- barefoot and in pajamas?"

"Oh, anywhere…" she said wispily, still eying Dean through the mirror.

Trying to keep his eyes fixed on the road, he avoided glancing into the rearview, but he could feel her little eyes burning on his face- as if she sent a ray of soft heat to deflect from the mirror onto his visage. Or perhaps it was simply his freckled cheeks warming with blood.

"I meant, _why_ are you roaming barefoot in pajamas in the middle of the night?"

"Well, you already know, don't you? That's why Dean doesn't trust me."

"Sorry to be a downer, but could you not use the freaky-deeky mojo on me, please and thanks?" grunted Dean.

"Dean!" chided Sam in disbelief. "I'm sorry, Lory. He's…"

"It's okay. And Dean, I didn't empathize you. You're just not very good at hiding your emotions."

Sam broke into a grin as Dean rolled his eyes, inaudibly mocking her.

"But it's okay for you to distrust me," she smiled. "I would distrust me too, if I were you. But I wasn't put in there for drowning my baby or setting someone's house on fire or anything like that. My family…thought I was crazy when I told them I could hear things and see things. The doctors said I was schizophrenic."

"Like Anna…" said Sam almost to himself.

"Who's Anna?"

"No one," cut in Dean. "You were saying?"

"Well, now, I didn't think you were listening. My mom put me in Darcy- which is a horrible place filled with… horrible things. Patients are raped in there. Many of them have killed themselves- or SEEM to have killed themselves. There are so many angry spirits… And they know I can see them, and they want to be heard. I started to get used to seeing them… but then all of a sudden, there was a disturbance and they've grown- violent. For the past few months, they've been… attacking me and harassing me- and they'd begun to hurt other people. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't be alone for too long. So I made up my mind I had to leave."

"The past couple of months?" said Sam, raising his eyebrows. "A seal?" he mouthed to Dean

Dean simply shrugged with a concerned frown.

"Yeah, it's like they all just went haywire- Like someone just took one big piss in their ectoplasmic grits."

"Did you try communicating with them- asking them why?" Sam inquired almost urgently.

"There's not much time for conversation when you're getting jumped by angry spirits- you know, between running and screaming…"

Through the thick silence that followed, Dean glanced back up at the mirror to get another look at the girl. His heart jumped again, because she'd already beaten him to it, and looked as though she'd been staring for more than a few seconds. Sam shook the unease.

"I'm sorry, Lory. I forgot to ask- is there somewhere you want us to take you?"

"Well… I don't really have anywhere in particular to go."

"So you were just gonna wander around all night?"

"I probably would have found somewhere to sleep…"

"We're headed up to a motel now. You can stay with us for the night, you know, until you can get in touch with someone."

Dean's eyes opened to the size of green dinner plates, giving Sam the most reproachful look he could muster.

"I don't- I don't really have any money…"

"It's fine," said Sam, "I'll share a bed with Dean-"

"You'll do what, now?"

"Come on, Dean. It's just one night."

"Nuh uh, dude. You fart in your sleep."

"I do not!"

"Then what do you call those stinky little thunderclaps that come out of your ass?"

"I really couldn't impose-"

"You're not," Sam said shortly, cutting her off before averting his attention to Dean. "And I do NOT fart in my sleep," he hissed through his teeth.

The three pulled up in front of the Starlight Plaza motel, whose neon blue sign read "Stight Pa" thanks to a short in it. Dean stepped out, moving a few paces toward the rental office before beaconing to his brother. Sam followed and once they were out of earshot (but not eyeshot), Dean flicked him on the ear.

"What the hell are thinking? Inviting Little Miss Psycho Friend Hotline to spend the night in our motel?"

Sam rubbed his ear before flicking Dean's.

"Goddamn it, Dean! Don't you see what I'm doing? She could be our key to stopping the next seal!"

"We don't even know if that IS a seal! We don't even know if she's telling the truth! She escaped from a mental hospital!"

"So did Anna."

"That's different."

"Why, because you fucked her?"

Dean was taken aback by his brother's crudeness, but mostly by the fact that he was on the losing end of a checkmate.

"No, because she was a long shot. Do you think Dolores is some sort of fallen angel too?"

"No. I don't know what she is. But I'm convinced she can help. And if we show her a little kindness, then she shouldn't mind scratching our backs, too. This girl sees ghosts. What's our next job?"

"Hunting a ghost…" Dean replied grudgingly under his breath. "But… but she could be a demon!"

"She's wearing a silver cross! Dean, why are you being such an asshole about this? You know if she were some sort of bombshell you would be all over this."

"That's completely not true!"

The boys glanced back at the car in unison. As they both suspected, she'd caught on to the fact that they were talking about her and she was staring at them. They waved and she waved.

"Come on, Sam. Let's go inside already, she's beginning to creep me out."

As they headed toward the rental office, Sam lowered his head toward his brother, as not to be too obvious.

"I tell you what. We'll give Pamela a call. Takes a psychic to know one, right? We'll have her talk to Lory, see what she says. But we can't make it too obvious, all right? If we make it seem like we don't trust her, she won't trust us and she might take off."

Dean sighed, "Ah, whatever, man. What the hell. Can't hurt."

"Dean," Sam began earnestly, "I know you have your doubts but you gotta trust me. I keep getting this vibe…"

"Vibe?"

"Yeah…Like something big is going to happen and Lory's going to be the cause of it."

"'Big' good or 'big' bad?"

"Neither… or both."

0000000000000000

"If you want, we can get you some clothes and shoes in the morning, Lory," Sam offered before sticking the key in the door.

"That's very nice of you, but you're already letting me stay here."

"Well, it's no trouble at all. Is it, Dean?"

He looked up from twiddling his thumbs.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, no trouble."

Sam turned the key in the door, but Lory held her hand against his chest to stop him from pushing it open.

"There's something in there…" she whispered.


	4. It's Just The Apocalypse

Sam and Dean exchanged concerned glances.

"On three?" mouthed the youngest Winchester to the oldest and he nodded, gripping the dagger in his belt loop.

"One. Two…"

Sam kicked the door open, Lory flipped on the light switch (which she'd prayed was right by the door) and Dean cocked the large dagger over his head. Taking in the sight of the unpleasantly rigid man in the blue suit and trench coat, the eldest Winchester's jaw tightened as he rolled his large, green eyes.

"Castiel? Goddamn it!" he sighed, sheathing the weapon.

The angel glared resentfully at those words.

"I'm glad to see you've found her," he nodded in his calm way, "It took two tries."

Turning toward the girl, Dean frowned indignantly.

"So you're in cahoots with flyboy?"

"I don't know him!" she replied earnestly, as though defending her honor.

"But I know you, Dolores," said the angel with more warmth than either brother had ever witnessed from him.

He extended his hand and touched her face. She frowned, examining his face in her wispy yet intense way.

"Or…maybe I do know you."

"I am the voice that has whispered in your ear, child," he said with a gentle smile, "I have guided you all this way. You are precious in my father's eyes, Dolores Fletcher."

"You… you're an angel," she said in awe, but complete belief.

"So you sent her to us without her knowing?" Dean asked, folding his arms, "That's SO much easier than just bringing her to us, especially because she was a couple feet away from being road-kill."

"I have my orders from Him, and you have no right to question them," he replied in a way that was surprisingly not the least bit snippy.

"Right…So, why, again?"

"Dolores is one of my father's touched. He gave her the gift of sight. I suppose you would call her a psychic."

"But, you said you whispered to her," Sam cut in, "And when Dean heard you- real angel you- his head almost exploded. And Pamela- she's a psychic, too, but…"

Dean picked up "Seeing your face made her eyes burn out of her head. Why is it that this one can handle you all angeled-out?"

"Like I said," purred Castiel, "my true self is too much for most, but not for some. I thought you wanted answers."

"Well, we do," replied Dean, placing his hands on hips.

"Then stop interrupting."

"Fine, then."

"Very well."

"Okay."

"It is in His plan that Dolores will aid you in your battle with powers of darkness. Heaven sees much potential in her. She could serve as a great asset in this fight."

"Uhm, no offense, and thanks for the Calvary, but we got this on lock, big boy."

"Well, Dean, I'm sure you do, but this isn't really optional."

"We've got enough shit on our plates without having to baby-sit," he grunted with a bit of aggression, "so you tell the man upstairs we said 'no, thanks'."

"You are defiant and stubborn and…"

As Lory and Sam silently observed, half-amused, she began to realize what Sam had already figured out- a debate between Dean and Castiel is something best left as a spectator's sport. However, neither of them appreciated the fact that both party referred to her as though she weren't even in the room- not bother to acknowledge her with a look or a nod when they spoke her name. As the new kid on the block, she felt it best swallow her indignity. But Sam thought it his civil duty to at least speak up for the poor girl.

"Did it ever occur to either of you to stop and think about what Lory wants or needs? I mean, she's the one being thrust into this, right?

Turning to her, he continued, "I know you've had your fair share of freaky, but we're up against demons. These things don't just go bump in the night. They're out for blood. They will kill you first chance they get. But, hey, if you decide that it's worth the risk, I'll be glad to have you."

The blank look that Lory had worn all night shifted to one of deep pensiveness as she looked up into Sam's kind face, over to Castiel's stoic personage, and then to Dean. He refused to look at the girl for more than a second, but her eyes remained fixed on him. Examining the look of complete disdain on his (statuesque) face, she wondered if it was she or the angel who caused that look. After giving him a soft smile, which he only allowed himself to glance at, she turned to the angel.

"I don't have anything better to do…" she offered simply, "I'll do what I can to help."

Castiel offered her an empty smile

"But… Just one question…" she trailed as though granting permission to ask, "What exactly are we up against? I mean, that heaven has to get involved and everything?"

"Oh," shrugged Dean, "nothing too major. It's just the Apocalypse."

.


	5. Wisconsin, Hell and the HoochieMomma

By the time Sam and Dean came to the end of their spiel (and they took shifts), the look on Lory's face could have easily been sold on eBay for three million dollars.

"Whoa..." she exhaled as though her innocence had been shat upon.

"Yep, that pretty much sums it up," nodded Sam.

Turning to Dean, she inquired in awe, "So you were in Hell? Like '_Hell'_ Hell?"

"No, like 'Wisconsin', Hell, Special Edna."

"Dude," chided Sam, "don't be a dick. Please?"

"You tell me how many different Hells there are, and _then_ I'll apologize."

"So, what was it like?" she prodded with an innocent, good nature.

"Like answering all your stupid fucking questions," he shot.

"Dean!"

"Yeah, I'm a rude bastard. I don't really give a fuck, Sam."

The oldest Winchester picked up his jacket, swung it on and went for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"To Wisconsin, Hell!"

The door slammed loudly and sharply enough to make the girl jump. Sam sat on the bed next to her, head in his hands, as though ashamed for his brother.

"I am so sorry, Lory. I don't know what's gotten into him. He's not usually like this. He's generally a nice- nice-_ish_ guy, you know?"

"It's not your fault," she smiled calmly, radiating warmth, "it's not even his fault. He's a good man. The angel- Castiel- he arranged this without telling you. He's done that before, hasn't he?"

"Well, yeah. I guess he has a couple of times. Why?"

He crooked his neck a bit to look at the girl as she continued in her airy way.

"Dean is not the type of man who likes to take direction from anyone, much less orders. But being his brother, you would know that."

"Yes, but how would you?"

The girl touched a finger to her temple.

"Psychic," she replied simply with a smile.

Sam returned it.

"Well, you hit it right on the head. This whole thing has been really tough on him. It has for me, and I wasn't the one who was ripped apart and sent to Hell. I guess that's what really set him off though, tonight. It took him months to talk to me about what he experienced, and when _you_ asked him, it just… I don't know, like I said, it's been rough."

"He abhorred me the second we came within feet of each other."

"That's not true. He can't hate you. He doesn't know you. Sometimes I think he hates me, too. But that's just Dean. It's been just us for so long… Just give it time. I promise, he'll warm to you. You're a girl, after all."

And they shared a chuckle.

0000000000000000000000000000000000000

The whiskey had begun to lose its sting after the third shot. Dean sat cracking his knuckles, not even paying attention to the several fairly attractive women who were paying attention to him. There was only one woman in his head and he could not get her out. He had no idea what to make of Dolores Fletcher, and he didn't like that. Not one bit. Ordinarily, when he came across something mysterious, he or Sam killed it- not bunked with it. He resented the fact that Castiel thought that it would be just dandy to bust up the dynamic duo and add a third party- and a girl at that- and a _psychic_! That sounded too much like the premise of a shitty CBS sitcom for his comfort. But most of all, he hated the way she looked at him.

It was as though she could see right through him- right _inside_ him. Inside his soul. Read his thoughts. He thought maybe she could, being psychic and all. And he didn't put it past her.

_Sam's just eating it all up, isn't he? Right out of her chubby little hand. _

He didn't take her for innocent act for one second. For all he knew, she could be another angel- sent to spy on them personally. God's own little narc.

"This seat taken?" was the phrase that jarred his thoughts.

He turned his head to right, looking up and down the cute, leggy blonde in the short skirt and long jacket that had spoken to him. He smiled.

"Actually, I was saving it for you."

"Oh really?" she said, sitting down, "How sweet of you."

"Well, I try my best."

"You know, that's real lucky for me because I was almost under the impression that you didn't want any company tonight. You looked kinda pissed…" she finished with a smile.

"I was, but there's nothing like a pretty lady to put a smile on my face. Name's Dean," he smiled, extending his hand.

She took it, almost caressing rather than shaking.

"Karissa."

"Nice to meet you, Karissa. That's a beautiful name. It fits you."

"Thank you. You're not bad yourself, but I bet you're taken, huh?"

"You're not a very good gambler, Miss Karissa. I'm free as a bird."

"And this bird I cannot change?" she smiled a bit before they both burst out laughing, the alcohol making the joke a little funnier than it should have been.

"You a big Skynyrd fan?"

"'Gold & Platinum' is only the best album known to man."

"Except…"

"Except 'Appetite for Destruction' by-"

"Guns N' Roses! Wow, a beautiful girl who likes Guns N' Roses. My birthday isn't for a couple months."

"I don't normally do this… But I got the original vinyls back at my place… If you wanna come and listen… I only live a few blocks away. I could whip us up some ranch potatoes skins. We can have some beers, watch some TNT- It'll be fun."

"You had me at 'ranch'."

00000000000000000000000000000000000

"Lory, what's wrong?" Sam asked, placing his hands on the girl's shoulders.

Mid-conversation she just seized up and began shaking, eyes rolling into her head. But almost as soon as he touched, she snapped out of it- perfectly still.

"D-Dean…"

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When a beautiful lady pulls you into an alley, you don't object. Dean knew this, but still couldn't help but ask.

"Nice place you got here…" he smiled as she pulled him past a fire escape, to the darkest recess of the alley.

"This isn't my place, silly. Just a little pit-stop is all."

"This is about the dirtiest pit-stop I ever made," he commented as he tried to ignore the smell of garbage and animal (and hobo) urine by focusing on Karissa's lovely, milky face.

Pushing him forcefully against the wall, she purred, "Oh, Dean… I took you as the type of guy who liked dirty…"

She dropped to her knees before him, unzipping his jeans, ripping them down his legs.

"Oh, I do. I do…"

She smiled up at him deviously, grabbing hold of the waist of his boxers, deliberately bumping into the tent in his underwear.

"You want me to take these off, Big Boy?" she teased.

"Y-yes, ma'am," he stammered, looking down into her hazel eyes which were lit with fire.

She stood up, staring into the depths of his sage-colored eyes. Her lips connected with his in a slow, sensual, wet kiss- the result of her tongue entwining with his seductively, but his trying to find its way down her throat. She brought her knee between his legs, caressing his bulge with it.

"Do you wanna fuck me, Dean Winchester?" she hissed, caressing a bit rougher, "Huh?"

"I- I... I never told you my last name was Winchester," he said as he narrowed his eyes into slits.

Her kneecap slammed into his groin with enough force to knock the wind out of him.

"Oops," she shrugged, grabbing him by the collar and throwing him across to the next wall.

"You stinkin' demon-skank hoochie-momma!" he choked angrily.

"This is what you get for always thinking with Little Dean," she smirked as she crossed over to him.

"Bend over, bitch," he replied with a defiant grin, "and I'll show you how little it is."

With almost no effort, the petite woman lifted him to his feet by his shirt.

"You're a cocky one."

"You have no idea. But you almost did."

"Maybe I'll keep it as a toy after I bite it off."

Her body tensed suddenly, eyes widening as her face contorted into a grimace.

"Bite this, bitch."

Sam removed the dagger from her back and she fell to the ground between the brothers.

"Thanks," Dean shrugged lightly.

"You can thank me by pulling up your pants, dude.

As Dean fixed himself, Sam continued.

"Besides, don't thank me. Thank Lory and her 'freaky-deaky mojo'. She had a vision and we booked it over here."

The girl shrugged modestly behind Sam. Feeling a slight pang of shame, but not daring show it, Dean stoically nodded to the girl.

"Thank you."

She nodded with a warm, forgiving smile, "Just doing my job."

.


	6. The Breakfast of Champions

**(sorry for the hold up you guys. major writer's block... Not my best chapter but here we go)**

Dean awoke with a start. He hadn't had much sleep in the past three days (he felt uneasy sleeping around people- strangers- Lory) but it seemed that no sooner than he had begun to doze, he was met with… the images.

He sprung up in his bed, panting, t-shirt soaked at the collar with sweat, clutching his face his hands.

"Oh… shit…"

"Dean?"

The quaky female voice made him jump. He'd almost forgotten about her. His eyes darted to the girl who sat up on the bed- where his brother should have been- with her legs folded criss-cross-applesauce and her head cocked curiously. He briefly brought his gaze to Sam, who slept peacefully in the room's armchair, and then back to the girl, silent. Her eyes narrowed in concern.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm just fine," he responded, avoiding her eyes.

"You sure?"

"Positive," he said shortly, following up with a forced, "thank you."

"Why won't you ever look-"

"Sam! Sam, get up." he said, cutting her off abruptly, but she had begun so softly that her speech ended as fluidly as it had begun, and she digressed.

Baby Winchester stirred and groaned a little before turning on his side. Only after catching a pillow in his face, did he rouse.

"What, man?" he groaned.

"The Fishers, bro. Let's go."

"Ugh… They just got home today. Can't it wait like another hour?" he pleaded, almost like a child as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"No,_ Sam_, it can't. Up."

"Fine…" he relinquished as his towering form departed from the chair. "God. So bossy."

He stretched a bit before crossing the small room to the bathroom. Once Sam was a couple seconds behind the door, Dean rolled over on his side, reaching into the duffle bag beside his bed and pulling out a square glass bottle. He shot a look at Lory, almost daring her to say a word before taking a swig.

"What's that?" she said, not at all invasive or antagonizing, but simply unaffected by his warning.

"The breakfast of champions," he grunted before swinging his legs onto the floor and making his way to the window.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"You ask a hell of a lot of questions, kid. Do you know that?" he said, turning to her, his sharp jaw clenching as a visible sign of his self-restraint.

"I'm not a kid… I'm nineteen. Well, I will be in a couple of days."

"That's wonderful, but you're still a kid, kid."

"That's not what you said to the cheerleader," she quipped before placing her hand over her mouth, masking her slight giggle as it faded.

Dean narrowed his eyes at her.

"Could you stop that?"

"What?"

"Reading me- using your Jedi mind tricks- whatever the hell you're doing. I really don't enjoy being mind-raped."

"I'm sorry… Sometimes I can't help it," she said softly, hanging her head.

"Well, call me cynical, but I don't think you're really trying all that hard…"

"I'm sorry…" she repeated slowly, softly, sincerely.

After a sustained moment of avoiding each other's shameful eyes, Dean turned to the girl, facing her, but still not locking eyes.

"Er, uhm, so, isn't your family going to be worried about you? You've been out of that place how many days now?"

Looking up at him with a stoic, almost wise smile, she said, "Now don't you think if they were worried about me I would be with them right now?"

"Good point…" he trailed, almost remorseful for bringing it up.

The bathroom door clicked open, and Sam half-emerged half-naked.

"Hey, Dean, toss me my shampoo?"

Lory willed her eyes off the towel-clad, dripping man as the bottle flew across the room and he snatched it from the air. Glancing over at the girl, Sam turned a little red, having forgotten that he and his brother weren't alone.

"Uh, erm, sorry…"

He disappeared once more behind the door.

"Guess he's not quite used to having me around?" she smiled good-naturedly at Dean who was still dividing his attention between the room and what lay outside the window.

"Guess not… Gotta say that makes two of us… Those guys upstairs- they really outdid themselves this time."

"It's only been a couple of days, Dean," Lory offered, her softly shaking voice holding a slightly pleading undertone, "I… I can't be that awful…"

She smiled weakly, hoping to upturn the latter statement and make herself sound- or at least _feel_ less pitiful. It had been this way with her and Dean the few days they'd known each other. The two or three times a day he addressed her, it wouldn't be very pleasantly. He didn't even know himself exactly what it was that irritated him about the girl. He knew it must have had something to do with her all around oddness- her wispy nature, the way she asked too many questions- but it was mostly to do with the way she looked at him. Still, he had no idea exactly _why_ this girl's all-knowing stare raised the little blonde hairs on his forearms, He had gotten worse looks from worse people- worse _things_- but something about it made him feel vulnerable. There were only two namable things that made Dean Winchester feel vulnerable- this girl sent from heaven, and the deepest recesses of hell.

"You're not- you're not _awful_…"

He meant it. She wasn't awful. Apparently. After all, Sam was already fond of her. He was the only one who had the problem with her. He began to think that maybe _he_ was the problem.

…_Nah. She's a fucking creeper._

"Only terrible, right?"

"No, you're neither of those things. You're just… I don't know, intense?"

"Thank you?"

"I'm not trying to insult you," he shot back, waxing aggravation.

."For once," she matched with a calm, even tone.

He also disliked that about her.

"Do you always make yourself the victim?" Dean asked in a way that, if a person didn't know him, might make them think he was being sincere.

"Only when I'm being attacked, Dean," she said softly, cocking her head to the side in her funny little way.

The eldest Winchester boy snorted in contempt as the youngest emerged, fully dressed this time, drying his hair.

"I'm going out, Sam," Dean said like the calm before the storm,"and the car goes with."

By the time his younger brother had processed and was wearing a puzzled squint, Dean's jacket was already on.

"Out? For what? The Fishers-"

"Will have to wait, Sam."

"First question still hanging in the air…"

"For breakfast," he said, shooting down Lory's knowing look with a contemptuous glance.

"Uhm okay… Bring me back a…" Sam trailed in defeat once as the door slammed, "bagel?"

Lory shrugged.

"Better luck asking for a beer…"

.


	7. Stranger Than Fiction

"Dean, you're trashed, and it's not even noon!" Sam reprimanded as the three walked (well, Dean kind of staggered) to the car.

"You had your joy rides when I was away, Sam. I'm driving."

"What if we get pulled over?"

"What if the moon really is made of green cheese?"

"That doesn't even make any sense!"

Placing a hand on Sam's upper arm, Lory nodded sagely, "Let him drive, Sam. We'll be fine."

She ended with a reassuring smile, which Sam matched with a trusting one as he relented.

"While you're at it- what are tonight's winning lottery numbers?" he joked, good-naturedly putting his arm around her shoulder.

0000000000000000000

"Hi…May I help you?"

The lanky redheaded woman that answered the door was the poster-child of yuppies' wives. The three examined her briefly from her brown oxfords, up her khakis, to her crisp white button-up shirt and her lavender sweater-draped shoulders. Things seemed neat and orderly up to that point, but once their eyes met her face it was apparent that all was not well. Under her hazel eyes were bags, not too unlike the color of her sweater. Her pale face said "thirty-eight" when it really meant "twenty-sevenish" with its worry lines and slowly forming crow's feet. But most of all, she looked tired.

"Mrs. Fisher?" Sam inquired.

"Yes?"

"I spoke to your husband on the phone about your… problem?"

"Oh… " she trailed as she cocked her head in a way not too unlike Lory's, "I completely forgot. You must be the Winchester brothers… And sister?"

Her eyes fell to the round brown girl in the generic clothes that were reminiscent of a jogging outfit, and then between the mundanely charming-looking young men.

"This is Lory, our associate," Sam nodded with a polite smile.

"Our psychic friend," Dean added squarely.

"Like- like Miss Cleo?" the tired-looking woman asked, looking utterly confused.

"More like Dionne Warwick… eighty years ago," Dean corrected.

"May we come in?" Sam asked, eager to put an end to this.

"Why can't I be Sylvia Browne?" Lory muttered as was she was the last to straggle inside.

"Dave!" the woman called into the depths of the house as she politely ushered the three inside.

Upon entering the house, the Winchester boys (even Dean in his buzzed state) felt something not quite right about the place, which looked pleasant enough, but seconds after stepping into the dwelling, the hairs on Lory's skin began to raise. She had tasted a few days' relief from the eerie and she had allowed herself to be flung right back into it without thinking.

A short man (dressed similarly to his wife but sans the sweater) emerged from the kitchen holding a roughly three-month old baby in his arms. He looked almost as tired as his wife, but while her eyes were squinted for want of sleep, his were wide and vigilant- the results of either intense unease, caffeine or a combination of the two.

"Shhhh. Derek finally went to sleep," he snapped in his jittery way before acknowledging the company with a nod.

"Dave, this is Sam and Dean Winchester, the specialists, and their..?"

"Associate," Sam coached, "Lory Fletcher."

After handing the child off to his wife, who side-by-side, dwarfed him, David shook hands with Lory, Dean and Sam in succession.

"Thank you for coming out."

"No trouble. No trouble at all," Sam assured.

"We didn't catch you at a bad time, did we?" asked Lory, outdoing her usual soft tone out of consideration for the sleeping baby.

"Oh, no you're just fine. Actually, we, uh, just got back from my mother-in-law's. We couldn't take staying here another night."

"Why, is the spirit violent?" Lory inquired, her head cocking to the side.

"Only just recently," David nodded, "Up until a couple nights ago, it was angry. It liked to break things and sneak up on us- scare the hell out of us. We lost nights of sleep. But when Angela woke up screaming, getting scratched in her sleep, I knew we had to leave."

"Can you describe the spirit for me?"

"We already briefed you on this," Dean interjected, "Besides, aren't you supposed to be psy-"

"I want to hear Mr. Fisher tell me, Dean," she cut abruptly but not at all disrespectfully before turning back to Fisher and asking with her eyes for him to proceed.

"She's a girl…No older than about twenty, twenty-one… When I first bought this place, she appeared beautiful to me. Not at all threatening. Then again, she would only let me catch glimpses of her. Sort of like she was, I don't know…"

"She was being coy with you," Lory nodded, "flirting."

Angela Fisher visibly waned comfort at this.

"Yeah, exactly. How'd you know?"

"Hunch… Is the spirit ever hostile toward you?"

"No, not me personally. Mostly Angela…And sometimes, the baby."

Looking into the air and exhaling deeply, Lory sighed, "She's pissed."

"Gosh, really?" Dean sneered as he folded his arms across his chest.

"_And_," she continued, looking at Dean before bringing her attention back to the Fishers, "She's hurting. Big time. Like she wants to curl up with a carton of Rocky Road and watch As the World Turns. Her heart is broken."

"She lost a lover?" suggested Sam

"Is this a therapy session or are you going to get rid of this thing?" Fisher urged with his hands on his hips.

"We have to assess the situation," Sam said defensively.

"Assess, not over-analyze," Dean chimed in gruffly.

"We should talk outside…" Lory advised the group, her hairs raising once more and her voice inevitably losing its temporary confidence.

Angela nodded to her husband, "You go. It's too cold out there for Tyler."

When the heavy door left a barrier between the group and Angela Fisher, Lory looked David in the eye.

"I didn't want to ask you this in front of your wife…"

"What?"

"Exactly how does one get…_involved_ with a ghost?"

"What the hell are you implying?" he snapped.

Sam and Dean exchanged dumbfounded glances.

"She feels like you used her. For what, I can't even begin to comprehend-"

Looking up angrily at Sam and Dean, David Fisher snarled in an accusing tone, "I thought you said you were professionals!"

Sam tried to defend, "We are-"

"Apparently not! First of all, you only said there were two of you-"

"Well, there was, as of a few days ago," Dean said, looking up at his brother with "I told you so" written all over his face.

"And you bring this hoodlum to my house-"

Even Dean had to furrow his brow and dispute, "Hoodlum?"

"That's right, with her baggy pants and sweatshirt- Where did you find this girl? The slums of North Philadelphia?"

"I'm from Yeadon, you racist jackass!" she snapped shrilly with her small brown fists clenched, causing all three men to jump back a little from the sheer surprise of it.

The fact that the hummingbird windchimes clanged angrily added to the effect.

A bit shaken, Fisher pointed to the Impala.

"Take her back to wherever she came from. _Then_ we can talk."

"…You do realize we're doing this for free, right?" Dean asked out of curiosity.

Fisher let out an angry little grunt, which was rather squeaky for a man, and stormed back inside, slamming the door.

Dean turned on his heel toward Lory.

"Smooth, Dolores."

"Did you hear the way he spoke to her?" Sam interjected.

"I would have said a whole lot worse if someone accused me of freak-a-leeking a ghost!"

"Ridiculous, isn't it?" said Lory, turning to face Dean matter-of-factly before stepping a little bit closer to him, looking directly in his eyes.

"It's so ridiculous in fact- wouldn't the only reason a person would get so offended by something so silly is if it were true?"

Looking away from Lory, Dean moistened his lips, at a loss for anything else to do or say.

"You should know more than anyone, Dean," she said with a crooked smile," the truth is stranger than fiction."

.


	8. The Unstoppable

"How _does _someone… get... _jiggy_…with a spirit?" Lory popped curiously in between girlish laps at her vanilla ice cream cone.

"_Your_ theory," Dean shrugged as he caught a couple stray drips before they soiled his hand.

The girl shook her head persistently.

"Only it's not a theory. David Fisher found a way. You saw the way Mr. 'I did not have sexual relations with that ghost-woman' blew up back there."

"Hold on…" Sam said almost to himself, so neither Lory nor Dean paid much attention to him when he headed for the trunk.

"He wasn't the only one doing the blowing…" Dean provoked in an almost sing-song voice, "Didn't know you had that in you."

"Well, I'm just full of surprises…" she challenged, maintaining a pleasant smirk

"Oh, I just bet you are," Dean granted with a sardonic wink.

Sam rounded the front of the car, holding a thick, worn, leather-bound book.

"I think I got something!" he smiled triumphantly, beginning to flip through the book.

"Aw, come on, Sam. I taught you to wrap it before you tap it," Dean said through a smart-aleck grin.

With a mock-smile, Sam continued to flip fervently but not recklessly though the old book.

"I was reading this at Bobby's and I came across some really interesting stuff, so I asked him to let me borrow it..."

Genuinely interested, both Dean and Lory leaned in toward him for a better look, bumping upper arms.

"Sorry," Dean grunted, shooting her a brief look in the eyes.

She nodded gently before they both directed their complete attention to Sam.

"Here," he said as he finally picked a page and tapped a finger confidently on it, "During sleep, the soul is sort of suspended from the body. No, not really suspended, but more… open? Vulnerable to certain supernatural things. Prophetic visions-"

"Point?" Dean prompted.

"Spirits can even interact with each other during sleep," Sam implied gravely.

"So I could catch some Z's and get a little nookie at the same time?" Dean questioned skeptically, "Where was this all my life?"

He continued nursing his ice cream until by chance his eyes met Lory's which seemed to have been fixed intently on him for a number of seconds. He decided he would stop doing that until she looked away.

"Actually, you can't, Dean," Sam matched, "unless you have some occultist affiliations you want to share with me."

Dean snorted, "A member of the occult? MENSA, probably. The Hair Club For Men, hopefully. But the occult?"

"We've seen stranger things, Dean…"

"Well, there was nothing even slightly… _culty_ about their place. I know we've fingered some pretty squeaky-clean people, but there was _nothing_. No clues. No hints."

"We were just in the living room, and for how many seconds?"

"If he does anything like that, I'm pretty sure he wife doesn't know…" Lory trailed.

"Okay, well let's say- and I can't believe I'm saying this- let's say he has been sleep-fucking this ghost after all," he began, pausing only for a lick of his ice cream, "He won't own up it. He won't even let us back if we mention it, so why is this even a topic of discussion?"

"Because there's an innocent woman and an innocent baby back there," Lory piped, her eyes filled with passion, "and she will hurt them if she continues to be ignored."

"All I'm saying is we find the bones, salt them, burn them, and it's over."

"But we can't do that without knowing who she is," reasoned Sam.

"And we'll never know exactly who she is if we don't communicate with her," Lory added, "and there's no way she'll tell us what we need to know until she's avenged. She doesn't want her soul to move on until Fisher- or at least, his family- is punished."

"Like I said," sighed Dean, "we're chasing our tails."

"Like puppies" said a low female voice from behind their backs.

Simultaneously, all three turned around.

"Oh," sneered Dean to Sam, "you just really wanted some ice cream, huh?"

"You wouldn't have stopped if I told you."

"You know me so well."

"I love you, too, Dean," Ruby waved snidely.

Giving Lory the once-over, she smiled politely, however forced.

"Friend of yours?" Lory asked Sam, keeping her suspicious eyes glued to the strange woman and her exuding darkness.

"Something like that," Ruby replied, unhooking one of her thumbs from the pocket of her jeans, extending it, "Ruby."

"Lory, nice to meet you."

Her suspicion eased as they briefly shook hands.

"Sam filled me in. And now that we're all friends, I'm here to inform you that we are indeed smack dab in the creamy center of a seal. The legion of spirits."

"Ooh. That sounds pleasant…" Dean sighed heavily.

"Oh, it gets better. You know all those souls kind of still floating around because they have unfinished business? Well, the ones that hell has called dibs on have been Shanghaied into doing Lilith's bidding- AKA fucking shit up."

"That's nice. How do we stop it?" pressed Sam.

"Funny thing about that is, I'm pretty sure you don't."

"Wait, what do you mean 'we don't'?" Dean interjected, "There's got to be some way of taking this down."

"Well, unless you want to salt and burn the corpse of every pissed-off spirit on Earth-"

"_Earth_?" Sam asked incredulously, "You _are_ exaggerating, right?"

"Do I look like I'm exaggerating?"

"Well, then, what do we do?" Lory asked, her eyes searching between their faces for an answer.

"We hope I'm wrong," Ruby said with a wry smirk.

Sam rolled his eyes as he reached into his pocket, unsheathing his inopportunely ringing phone.

"Yeah?" he said, holding it up to his ear.

Ruby, Lory and Dean could faintly hear the frantic female voice on the other end, and… the sound of a baby crying.

.


	9. Hell Hath No Fury

"Can't you go any faster?! There's blood all over the baby!" pleaded Lory, frantically with her fingertips massaging her temples.

"If you haven't noticed we're driving through the suburbs with a Black person in the front seat. We haven't gotten stopped yet, but I'm not trying to push our luck."

"Forget the cops, Dean! They're in trouble!"

"And if we have a chopper hovering over us, there's only so much we can do to help them! We're already doing sixty-five!"

"Are they always like this?" Ruby asked softly, turning to Sam.

"No, Dean, usually does all the yelling…"

Lory and Dean could hear the conversation over their screaming-match.

"There is a baby at stake, Dean!"

"Your bitching and moaning isn't going to poof us there!" he growled.

"Oh, so caring about the life of a child makes me a bitch?"

"I didn't call you a bitch, but you are beginning to act like one."

"Yeah, at least I don't drive like one…" she ejected, folding her arms across her chest.

"What did you say?" Dean asked with an almost threatening tone as he turned his head toward her.

"WATCH THE ROAD!" Sam and Ruby shouted at the same time as Dean barely avoided a collision with an SUV.

"I said you drive like a bitch," Lory challenged calmly but blatantly, looking him square in the eye.

This time he didn't cower. He narrowed his eyes at her, snarling slightly before whipping his head forward and flooring it. Everyone slammed backward into their seats as Lory and Dean watched the speedometer climb. Lory watched Dean smirk triumphantly, and she turned away from him, looking at the blurs outside the window so he wouldn't see hers.

In a matter of a few minutes, they were double-parked outside the Fisher residence. They ran from the street to the sidewalk, but in spite of their urgency, each and every one of them halted for a couple seconds, taking in the grand house. As stark white as the paint was, it wasn't bright at all.

Lory fumbled with the door knob, but it was unmoving. The brothers moved her aside, giving each other a knowing look before both lifted a powerful leg and brought it slamming into the door which gave on the first attempt. Upon entering the house, the four had to stop again. Everything was quiet…too quiet- eerily so.

"Angela! David!" Sam boomed into the air.

"Their cars are in the driveway," Dean implied gravely.

Lory stepped boldly forward.

"Calm down, honey…" she said quietly "It's all right…"

Ruby turned to the brothers, mouthing inaudibly, "Who is she talking to?"

"The ghost…" Sam whispered, keeping his eyes on his surroundings.

"Thought it was Dean..." she smirked.

The door that swung on its hinges slammed tightly shut.

"Where are the Fishers?" Lory continued, "Tell me. Please? Where are they?"

Two vases on the mantle popped simultaneously, the way beer bottles would when hit with buck shots.

"The wife and child are innocent," Lory continued, unphased, "they didn't hurt you. They don't deserve this. If you want to hurt David, that's between you two. I understand you want to get even."

"What is she doing?" Dean asked, his face contorting in disbelief.

"Bargaining…" Ruby replied.

"With his life?"

"Something tells me she knows what she's doing," Sam nodded, "Let's check upstairs. Dean, stay with Lory."

The house began to shake furiously as Ruby and Sam bounded up the stairs, almost throwing them down. They stood frozen on the staircase, holding on to the railing.

"If you give us the wife and the baby, we'll let you be, Lillian. We'll let you have your revenge. You can torture him nice and slow. You can do it for days, if you want. Or…if you still want him you can have him all to yourself and you can keep him here, all for you. This house and David Fisher will be all yours again…. Angela and Derek will go far away and you'll never have to deal with them again. Doesn't that sound nice? I know you're not a murderer, Lillian. You just want what's yours. You want your man. Just give us Angela and Derek. Please."

A lamp whizzed about a foot past Lory's head, but she remained stoic. As soon as it smashed into a wall, the glass coffee table smashed into the mantle, shattering.

"Dolores, stop it! You're pissing her off and the next thing that flies is going to go straight into you!" Dean snapped, grabbing her upper arm, roughly turning her to face him and shaking her firmly but not violently, his concern peeking out from beneath his gruffness.

"If she wanted to hit me, I would have been hit. She's taking out her frustration. Let me do this," she pleaded softly with him, placing her hand on his upper arm.

The blistered hand print tingled slightly beneath his shirt and jacket when her small hand lay upon it. His unease caused him to back off and retake his place behind her. Lory looked up to the ceiling once more.

"My friends are looking for the woman and the baby. They're not here to interfere with your business. Please, give them Angela and Derek and we'll leave. I promise you. Angela didn't take David from you. She didn't know about you. David lied and hid you from her. She doesn't even know that he's a pagan."

The door to the downstairs closet flung open, and as the door opened, the sounds of the woman and baby screaming were instantly audible, as if the spirit had sound-proofed the closet to hide their location. They were both covered in blood, apparently from a few gashes across Angela's chest and arms. The mother hugged the child tight to her as she crawled away from the closet, eventually bringing herself to her feet.

"Thank you, Lillian. We're leaving now."

The house ceased shaking. All was dead silent and the door flung open.

"What about David?" asked Sam, he and Ruby still standing on the stairs.

"David has to answer to Lillian. We made a deal."

"We can't-"

"Sam! We need to go," Ruby urged, looking into his eyes and back at Lory.

Dean followed Angela who had ran outside the second the door opened. The others followed suit and as soon as Lory, who was last to exit did so, the door slammed shut. Everyone filed into the car, silent with disbelief at what just happened. All except Lory. As soon as the car door was shut, she turned to Dean.

"We need to head for the nearest cemetery! Right now! Sam, laptop- we need to make sure she's buried there on the way. Her name is Lillian Caldwell. She died sometime in the eighteen-hundreds. She should be buried near here."

Dean, Ruby and Sam looked at her in complete surprise.

"Fisher is a jerk, but I wasn't about to deliver his life to her. He's a diversion. She won't do anything to him right away. I think she's still deciding."

Angela's eyes widened in shock and horror as she exclaimed, "You purposely left my husband in there with that thing?"

Ruby turned to her with a roll of her eyes saying. "Listen, sister. I'm a bit of a late-comer in this big seething ball of dysfunction, but if memory serves, your husband has been using his occult hocus-pocus to fix it so that he can fuck this ghost in his sleep."

She turned to Sam for a quick nod of confirmation before turning to face Angela again and continuing.

"So let's recap. He's been hiding the fact that he's a member of the occult and he's been cheating on you with a ghost, which, personally, I would find very insulting. This is just me, but I'd say that he's pretty lucky we're not actually going through with that little bargain because it's not like the fucker wouldn't deserve it."

Angela, looking as though she wished to dispute Ruby, shut her mouth in relent. After what she'd just experienced, she would believe anything.

"Vernonbury Cemetery," Sam nodded in conclusion, closing the laptop.

Turning to Dean, Lory confirmed, "We passed that on the way here."

"I remember it."

00000000000000000

They all stood around, watching the casket smolder in its hole for a few minutes, until the flames were strong enough to ensure it would burn all the way through. With that done, they decided it would be wise to haul-ass before any passers-by came along and spotted them holding a gas can over a blazing grave. It's not a good look.

As they trudged back to the car, Dean slipped up beside Lory and they straggled behind the others. He turned to her, speaking so low that his deep voice purred in his throat.

"You're a smart cookie. I don't even think Sam could have come up with something like that…"

"You're an enigma, Dean Winchester. One minute you're screaming at me, the next you're giving me a compliment."

"Well, I like to give credit where it's due. I haven't seen acting like that since 'Men of Honor'."

"I'm flattered…" she said, although her tone said otherwise as she challenged him with her eyes.

"I mean, the way you pretended to be her friend like that… It was- Whew! Gave me chills."

Coaxing him away from the bush he beat around, Lory stopped in her tracks, folding her arms and looking up at him stonily.

"Funny. You never struck me as the type to sympathize with a homicidal ghost."

"Well, would you look at that. _You_ never struck _me_ as the manipulative type. Wait, no, actually, you always did."

"I did what I had to do. Yes, I do regret that I had to abuse her trust to get there, because that's what made her this way in the first place. However, I'm not going to apologize to you or anyone else for it because it saved three lives. Besides, why do I have the feeling this isn't about Lillian?"

"You tell me…While you're at it, why don't you tell me why those wind chimes rattled today when no wind was blowing."

"Stuff like that happens sometimes when I'm angry. I can't control it. Sometimes my energy just explodes," she confessed sincerely, "but it doesn't do anything other than send a couple little vibrations through the air."

"Mmhmm."

"Dean, don't you think if I were an angel, I would choose a more perfect vessel?" she hissed.

Dean was taken aback slightly.

"Dean, I'm just a girl. I'm just a plain, simple girl who got something she never asked for- something she never wanted. And all I want to do is help people with it. I didn't ask for any of this. I agreed to come with you and Sam, because up until I met you guys this was a curse. Now I can apply it! That's all I want to do, Dean. All I want to do is help. And that's what I did today, even though I didn't do it in the nicest way. But none of us are completely innocent, Dean. I had to do what I had to do. I'm sure you can relate."

His eyes narrowed at her and his jaw twitched, but the look she gave him made him cower. The sympathy and sadness and compassion in her eyes could only mean one thing.

"Could you guys be any slower?" Sam called over his shoulder from about six yards away.

She began to jog toward the car before he could stop her. He bit his lip, feeling more helpless than he had in months, standing there by himself another moment before catching up.

.


	10. Dirty Things

"Do you really think it's safe to leave those two alone back there?" Ruby smirked over at Sam, who was enjoying his turn in the driver's seat.

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"I don't know, you might come back to find that they've killed each other… or find them having sex."

Scoffing, Sam smirked a little.

"I'd put my money on the first one."

"That kind of tension can only be sexual. They're like an old married couple."

"Nah, she's not Dean's type."

"Vagina is Dean's type."

"This would be an exception. For whatever reason, Dean despises her. From the moment he met her, he just decided to hate her. I've never seen him latch onto someone's throat like that before. It's intense. And I can't understand it because she's a really, really nice girl. I mean, I really like her."

"Oh, you do, do you?" she said in an indicative tone.

"No, not like that. I mean, she's great but- Lory? No… No… Not at all… Not _Lory_…"

"You know, you sound a lot less believable when you deny something five times in one thought."

"It's not like that, Ruby. It's just nice having someone else to talk to besides Dean. I mean, I love him, but he gets old…fast."

"Is that a nice way of calling your brother an asshole?" she smirked.

"Of course not… Kinda. Before recently I would totally defend him, but he's been a complete and utter jerk to Lory for no reason. I don't know what he said to her in the cemetery earlier, but it didn't look too pleasant. She looked like she wanted to cry."

"She must be able to hold her own, because when we got back to the car, he did, too."

"He's not usually this harsh with people. I guess there's just something about her that sets him off."

"Well, you said he's been secretive ever since he came back. What's more threatening to him than someone who can spot every single skeleton in his closet, in the blink of an eye?"

"I guess you're right, but he's not like that with Pamela."

"That's because Pamela doesn't give two shits about his personal life," she mused.

"Yeah, but why would Lory?" he asked, turning to her briefly.

"You're kidding, right? Could she be any more obviously in love with him?"

"What? In love with Dean? That's ridiculous. How can you fall in love with someone you're always fending off? Besides, how would you know? You've only known her a day."

"I know these things."

"Demon's intuition?"

"I'm a woman too, Sam. Or have you already forgotten?" she trailed, giving him an unnamable look.

In a blatant attempt not to go there, Sam continued, "It's been only a week."

"Matters of the heart aren't supposed to make sense, Sam. Otherwise, they would be matters of the head and that doesn't sound nearly as pretty. And have you seen the way she looks at him?"

"I admit, it's a little intense."

"Yeah, I'd say."

"I hope you're wrong. For one, it would be really awkward being in the middle of that. More importantly, she's a good girl. I don't want to see her get her heart broken- mostly because she doesn't deserve it, but more selfishly…Today showed us how much we need her. The angels know what they're doing."

"So quick question."

"What's that?"

"You said she was great, right?"

"Uhm, yeah..?" Sam replied cautiously, "_Why_?"

"If she's so wonderful, why aren't you going for her? Is she too round or too brown?"

"No, it's not either of those. It's… She's too…"

"Innocent?"

"I don't know… Maybe…"

Sam's entire demeanor was tentative. He thought it best to tread lightly. He could tell what Ruby was getting at and he didn't want to go there again. When Dean was gone, it was different… Almost _excusable_- but now, what would be his excuse? Ruby didn't need one. Her hand slipped onto his thigh as they stopped at a red light. The longer they waited, the closer it got to his crotch.

"Ruby, what are you doing?"

"Playing tennis," she smiled with playful sarcasm.

"I'm driving," he replied coldly.

"Well, then stop driving…"

The youngest Winchester boy exhaled deeply, wishing he could be more like Dean. He wished he could be as cold and stoic and iron-willed. He also felt slightly uncomfortable about the fact that his brother popped into his head while a beautiful woman stroked his crotch.

_It feels good inside this body, Sam… It's soft and warm…_

It was. It was the softest, warmest thing he'd ever felt. He wanted to feel it again. But he couldn't. Could he? The light turned green and the cars behind them began to honk furiously as they remained at the intersection. He had a decision to make and a split second to do so, and in that split second, he made a U-turn and headed for the park they just passed.

00000000000000000

Dean had fallen asleep with his back to Lory, and she had closed her eyes, pretending to have done the same. But she lay awake, and he had managed to roll over facing her. He was nothing like what she had expected- nothing like what she had hoped. It was bittersweet. For years,in her dreams, he was like Michelangelo's "David"- beautiful, but hollow. Having met him, she knew his facets. They weren't always pleasant, but they were there. He _felt_. That was a start.

She'd caught glimpses of his exploits in her visions- all the beauties he'd bedded in the past. Dean had a tendency to change his style of love-making depending on who he was with. He could be the sweetest, most tender lover or a depraved beast. And he never had to ask. He just _knew_. Maybe he was psychic, too.

In that case, maybe that was why he knew she wasn't being completely honest with him and Sam. It was possible… Perhaps he could tell that she knew him a lot better than she should have.

_Does he know why I ran that night?_

Or maybe he could sense how much she cared for him- how intensely- and it frightened him.

_If I were him, I'd be scared, too_.

But even with that said, she couldn't take his contempt for her. She'd seen them making love, but at that point she began to think that they were wishful dreams, and not at all prophetic. The thought of him making love to her was ridiculous, especially with the amount of time she had left.

She could still dream, and that's what she did. She was thankful more than ever that she didn't talk in her sleep. He was her only fantasy- ever since she'd begun having fantasies. He was her mystery dream man- perfect to her in every way. Every freckle on his face… His luminous, sage-colored eyes… His body….

She glanced over at him, soundly sleeping. She bit her lip, remembering how her heart jumped when he grabbed her earlier that day. That had been the only time he looked into her eyes showing an emotion other than hate.

_He cares if I live or die…Somewhat…_

And then even earlier that day, as he slowly, sensuously (to her, at least) enjoyed his ice cream. It reminded her of a dream she had of him, only in that dream, he enjoyed her a lot more than ice cream and he made her melt a lot quicker.

Ignoring the part of her that said what she was about to do was wrong, her hand crept into the waist of her sweats and panties simultaneously as she kept her eyes on Dean's perfect face. She closed them, imagining him hovering over her as she gazed up at perfection. Her fingers moved slowly back and forth, careful not to cause any rustling or anything of that nature. Her eyes opened once more to fall upon him. The moonlight cast a slight shadow over his face, but accentuated the curves of his bicep. Hours ago, she touched that same bicep.

_It was so firm and perfect… I just want to squeeze it again._

Her hand glided back and forth, meeting no resistance thanks to her slickness.

_Both of them, while he makes love to me…_

Her efforts began to make a light squelching sound, while in her heat, she began to imagine him moaning and groaning.

_Yes… Moan for me. Moan my name!_

After a certain point, she realized that she wasn't imagining anything. Opening her eyes, she noticed the distressed look on his face. He began to roll from side to side violently, almost as if he were seizing. She pulled her hand out of her pants quickly.

"Dean?"

No answer. He only tossed more violently and grunted louder.

"No…" he said in his sleep, "Alistair, stop! Ahh! Fuck!"

"Dean?" she repeated, both her concern and her voice rising.

When he began to fight the air, she sprung up and rushed to his bedside, placing her hands on his shoulders.

"Dean, it's okay. Wake u- ahhhh!"

She looked up at him as he crushed her wrists into the bed, all of his weight pressing onto her. His sweat-covered face wore a deranged look for a brief moment before realizing it was Lory he just went Triple H on, and not Alistair. He loosened his grip but still didn't release her. She feared him, and he liked it.

"You were having a nightmare…" she explained tentatively.

The door suddenly opened and Sam walked through, looking pleased with himself until he stopped just past the threshold, looking at them, blankly, blinking.

"Wow… Go, Ruby."

.


	11. Sam Likes Vagina

The look of frustration on Sam's brow intensified the longer her stared at his laptop. Each passing minute caused the calloused tips of his large fingers to wane mercy on the keyboard, smacking against it with growing fervor.

"What's wrong?" asked Lory as she came up behind her, resting her chin on his broad shoulder and squinting at the screen, attempting to decipher the source of the anguish but finding no clue, just a full search engine.

"Sammy's looking for a new job," Dean chimed in through a mouthful of Doritoes, before shouting, "Goddamn it!" at the playoff game.

"Well, there are plenty of things listed here," Lory offered, her face pouting in confusion.

"Yeah, _exactly_. There's dozens of cases in each city- and those are just the ones that were mentioned online…"

Sighing in dismay, Sam swept his fingers through his hair.

Clutching his shoulder gently, Lory reassured, "It's okay. It's not like we'll have to handle this all on our own. There's plenty of other hunters, right?"

"Not _plenty_…" he corrected, "But there are others. They're scattered, though."

"We'll take what we can handle," Lory smiled, ruffling his hair.

"You want the task of deciding who lives and who dies?" Dean cut in, "Because I sure as hell don't."

"Not all ghosts are homicidal, Dean," she replied softly, scoffing under her breath, "_Drama queen_."

"Unfortunately, most of these are…" Sam said, raising a finger to the screen and continuing, "Do you all these headlines? I've read through about forty-something of these pages. Most of these hauntings are violent."

"Well, then…" she relented, shrugging a bit.

"I wish there was some way we could canvas," Sam said, chewing his lip, "Like networking with the other hunters in the country or something. Maybe divide it into sections..?"

Dean snorted, "Well, you put in the ad on Craig's List, and I'll start checking the Yellow Pages."

00000000000000000000000000

With her chin resting lazily on her folded arms, which rested lazily upon the back of the chair she straddled, Lory stared dreamily out the window. Just on the other side, a few yard further, was Dean, in the motel's parking lot, looking under the hood of the '64 Impala that he loved more than most people, Lory included. She sighed, smiling a bit as he wiped a bit of sweat from his brow and began to stroke his lightly stubbled chin inquisitively. As he bent down deeper into the car's works, Lory found herself intrigued with the way his strong back arched, and the way its knotted muscles were even still slightly visible through three layers of shirts. And just like that, she had lost herself in him once more, quickly to be found.

"You might want to be careful," Sam quipped as he emerged from the bathroom, causing her to jump like a frightened rabbit.

She turned around, meeting his kindly smile with a look of bewilderment.

"Huh?"

"You might burn a couple holes into him, staring like that," he half-teased, folding his arms across his broad chest.

"I- I wasn't staring…" she said before turning around again to look back out the window, "I'm observing… Just watching him work on the car."

"Uh huh…"

"Really!" she defended earnestly, "Why would I be staring at him?"

"We both know why, Lory…" he said, sitting on the bed behind her.

"Is it obvious?" she sighed, relenting.

"Not really, he probably can't even tell."

Over her shoulder, she asked, "Then how could you?"

"Uhm, duh. I'm the smart one."

Both of them laughing, Lory replied, "Yeah, but it was Ruby."

"Yeah, it was… But, Lory, listen… "

"Listening."

"I know that women have always found my brother… _intriguing_, for whatever reason. And yeah, underneath that asshole exterior, he really is a great guy. But, I only know that after being his brother for twenty-six years, you get what I'm saying? Someone who isn't as close might not stand a real big chance of getting to the good guy inside him."

"Don't worry about me, Sam. I know I don't stand a chance with Dean, I don't need you to tell me. That's what mirrors are for."

"Lory, that's not what I meant. I'm sure if you really wanted to just sleep with him you could, but he usually never goes beyond that."

"Sam, please, I know."

"I'm sorry. I'm just trying to look out for you."

"And I appreciate it. But trust me, I'm not going to go there with Dean. He won't even know if I can help it."

"But, what I can't understand is why you care for him in the first place. He's been a bigger douche to you than I've ever seen him be to anyone else."

"He's got a score of redeeming qualities," she said simply.

"But he hasn't shown you any of them this entire time."

"I know your brother better than you think."

"Oh?" he said, completely unconvinced.

"This wasn't some last minute thing the angels cooked up… They planned this for years."

"What do you mean?" he asked, leaning forward.

Lifting a leg over the back of the chair, Lory spun around on her bottom, ending up facing Sam. She leaned forward much in the same manner as he.

"Ever since I was a little girl… I would have these dreams almost every night about these two mystery men. One was tall and kindly and warm, and the other was just… _intense_…"

"Me and Dean?" Sam asked, almost in disbelief.

"Yeah, you and Dean. The more often I began having these dreams… The more vivid and real they would become."

"Like what kind of dreams?"

"I don't know… Like glimpses of your lives. Sometimes- rarely- I would see pieces of your childhood, like what happened to your mom… and what happened to you… But it was mostly 'adult' you. Dean, especially, the longer it went on. I always thought I'd just created you in my head. I'd never seen you and I didn't even know your names But that night you almost ran over me, when you guys got out of the car, I knew you were real."

"So then why did you run from us?"

"Because I've seen pieces of my destiny, Sam… And it involves you and Dean, but mostly Dean."

"And what exactly is your destiny?

"I'm supposed to-"

The door clicked open and Dean walked in, wiping the dirt and oil from his hands. Both Sam and Lory stared up at him, but Sam's look was that of irritation.

"What?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow and bouncing his gaze between the two, "Interrupt something?"

"No, you're fine- It's fine," Lory nodded.

"Okay. Well, I got that funny little sound out of the engine. She's running like a bat out of hell," he said with a smile, which actually didn't fade when his eyes shifted back to Lory.

This caused her to smile back.

"Great," Sam said, stretching as he rose before looking down at Lory and asking softly, "Ready?"

"Yeah, let's do it."

"All right, to grandmother's house we go," Dean said as he picked up his duffle bag and slung it over one of his broad shoulders.

"Your grandma is named Bobby?" Lory asked innocently, rising from the chair and adjusting her clothing a bit.

Dean squinted at her in disbelief before shifting his eyes to Sam.

"Kidding, " she grinned.

"We're going to take you to meet Pamela- that psychic we've been telling you about, too," Sam informed her, placing a large hand square on her shoulder, "Talked to her yesterday. She said she can't wait to meet you," he finished with a smile.

"Great," she smiled in return, heading toward the door behind Dean.

He stopped in his tracks.

"Actually, Lory, you might want to use the bathroom before you leave. Once we get on the highway…"

"Uhm, okay…" she complied.

Her bladder was bone-dry, but she could take a hint. After the bathroom door closed behind her, Dean turned to his younger brother, whispering, suspiciously raising an eyebrow.

"What exactly was she divulging before I walked in?"

"Nothing!" he replied, just as hushed, "We were just talking."

"Really? Why did you stop when I walked in?"

"Because we were having a personal conversation."

"Am I supposed to believe you and your new BFF were having a little girl talk? I'm pretty sure you weren't gushing about Justin Timberlake's new album."

"I'm not telling you what we were talking about, wise ass, and Justin Timberlake's last album was like two years ago," he shot back triumphantly.

"…Are you sure you like vagina?"

"What the hell does that have to do with-"

"Just answer the question."

"I'm not dignifying that with a response."

"Oh, sweet Jesus," Dean groaned in dramatic exasperation, holding his hands to his head, "I knew it-"

"Yes, Dean!" Sam snapped. "Yes! I really like vagina!"

"Okay," sighed Dean in relief.

"I LOVE vagina! …A lot!"

"Yeah, that's enough."

Lory stood in the threshold of the bathroom, blinking at the brothers, who whipped their heads toward her in unison.

"I- I'll be in the car…"

And she brushed past them, out the door.

.


	12. Why You Never Use Gas Station Restrooms

"Ow! Dean!" Sam exclaimed, rubbing the smarting, red area where his brother just smacked his hand.

"_No_," Dean said flatly and firmly, the way one would to a misbehaving puppy, " What's the rule? We do not listen to No Doubt. We watch the videos- _muted_, and only when Gwen Stefani is wearing half-tops… Hehe… Gwen Stefani…." He trailed contently, looking at the road, but looking at Gwen Stefani in his head.

"We've been listening to Lynyrd Skynard for an hour and a half!"

"And we'll be listening to it for another goddamn hour and a half. My car, my tunes. Deal with it. _Baby_."

"Douchebag!" he shot back indignantly.

"Ass-jockey."

"Short."

"Jolly White Giant."

"Dean…" Lory trailed tentatively from the back seat, "I have to use the bathroom…"

"Goddamnit, Lory!" he ejected in frustration, "I told you to use it back at the motel!"

"I did, but I just had a Big Gulp."

"Why didn't you pee at 7-Eleven?"

"I didn't finish it until thirty minutes after we left 7-Eleven."

"Sammy… You done with that water bottle?"

"What?" Sam replied in disgust, "Come on!"

"I told you guys," Dean justified, "I'm not getting off the freeway!"

"I can't pee in a bottle, Dean. My parts don't work that way," she quipped in her innocent voice.

"I believe in you," he replied flatly.

"Yeah, Dean, be real," assisted Sam, "There's an exit coming up in a mile," he said as he pointed at the indicative sign through the windshield.

"No, it's okay, Sam, " Lory relented, dropping her head sadly before picking it back up again and continuing, "I mean, I can try. What's a couple of drops on the seat between friends, huh, Dean?" she said, patting him on the shoulder briefly with a sweet smile.

Patting hers, he turned around with a brief, forced smile.

"If you pee in my car, I'll rip out your bladder."

"Oh, but, Dean" she exclaimed dramatically, beginning to squirm and twist her thighs about, "I don't know if I can hold it much longer! I wouldn't take my chances. That wrap I had for lunch had asparagus in it…"

Sam bit his lip in a failed attempt to hold back a chuckle as Dean let out a throaty growl, rolling his eyes.

"I fucking hate girls!" he grunted finally before punching the gas.

It was a few minutes before Dean pulled up in front of the most dilapidated gas station/shack any of them had ever seen.

"_Here_?" Lory peeped softly.

"Either here or the bushes behind it, sweet cheeks," he grunted, turning around and showing her his stoniest poker face.

"I'll go…" she sighed, opening the car door and crawling out.

"Sammy, you better go, too…" Dean advised, turning to his brother.

"Naw, I'm good."

"All right, but don't bug me in another forty-five minutes telling me you have to tinkle."

"Tinkle?" smirked Sam.

"I mean it. I will push you out of this car and keep going."

"If you want some alone time with Lory…" he teased, beginning to step out of the car, "all you gotta do is just let me know…"

"I hope some herpes jumps on you from the toilets," he sneered, "you and your little dog, too."

"Screw that. I'm not using these toilets," he scoffed, finally closing the car door, "but I could use a soda. You want anything?" he asked, leaning through the open window.

"From this place? Fuck no, unless it comes with a shot of penicillin."

"Suit yourself. BRB…" Sam trailed, hiking toward the station's store.

"'BRB'?" Dean scoffed to himself, "What are you, a sixteen year old girl? Mmmm, Miley Cyrus... Billy Ray was good for something."

The second Lory walked into the bathroom (cesspool would be a more appropriate term), the odor just about smacked her in the face. Not only was it smelly, but it was dank and the walls dripped. Her skin tingled as the little bumps on it began to rise. She chalked it up to the cold.

"Ugh," she cringed to herself, covering her nose and mouth with her sleeve. She looked around for a stall, but there was none- only a drain in the middle of the floor.

She stood there for a good four seconds, her face completely blank before grumbling to herself, "You have got to be kidding me… Ugh."

She rolled her eyes before doubling back, making sure the door was completely locked before she shimmied out of her pants and underwear, careful not to remove her sneakers. Bundling them beneath her arm, she proceeded to squat over the hole to do her business, freeing herself of both her water and her self-respect in one fell swoop.

When she finished, she took a look around.

"Toilet paper, toilet paper…"

None.

She dug in the pocket of her pants, finding a crumpled napkin. As she wiped, one hand braced against the tile wall, she just suddenly stopped. She felt something- like she was being watched, and it hit her suddenly, out of almost nowhere.

"Shit…" she said to herself, dropping the napkin on the floor and attempting to jump into her underwear, "Shit shit shit…."

As she got one leg in her pants, halfway to the door, she was knocked against the wall.

"Christ!"

Her arms were flung directly above her head and pinned to the wall. A man- a spirit- wearing a trucker cap and a plaid shirt (not the pleasant, lumberjack-esque kind the boys were known to attractively sport; this one was sleeveless and filthy) was the assailant. His stringy hair hung in his beady, black eyes as he grinned at her, baring his half-rotted teeth.

"Spirit, I see you! I can see you! Leave me alone."

His grin only widened before he opened his mouth wide, his slimy tongue writhing just beneath the gaping hole where the back of his throat should have been- where Lory could see clean through to the green tile on the other side of the room.

"DEAN! DEAN! SAM!" she began to scream, writhing fervently, but barely moving, almost paralyzed.

The youngest Winchester cocked his head to the side for a split second, taking in the cries. He dropped the jug of sweet tea he had just been holding and darted straight out the door, leaving the bell chiming furiously and the clerk only half-curious at his post behind the counter.

Dean, however, had the car windows up and the radio blasting, drumming on the steering wheel.

"Hey, baby! There ain't no easy way out! Hey yeah! I'll stand my ground and I won't back down!"

The adjoining shack beside the mini-mart shack held the bathroom. Sam grabbed hold of the handle, shaking it furiously.

"DEAN!" he called, his booming voice carrying to the car, unlike Lory's, unrestricted by any walls

The eldest Winchester lifted his head, and his eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.

"Shit!" he said to himself, hopping out the car.

"The salt gun, Sam!" Lory called through the door before enduring the most devastating slap she had ever felt in her young life.

She felt dizzy as she began to swallow her own blood, unable to do much about her underwear being tugged down her round thighs.

"I can't get it open!" she just barely heard Sam shout to Dean, just a second after he relayed her message.

The thumps of their two heavy bodies flinging against the door grew even more faint as she felt her legs rise in the air, her back smashed against the wall so hard that breathing against it began to hurt. And then came the rip of her panties.

And then the dark.

When she came-to, she was laying in the back seat of the Impala, Dean's voice just barely audible to her cloudy head.

"… the kind of liability we have having her with us! You do realize we're responsible for her now, right?"

Sam, more hushed, but still heated, grunted, "Is that all you can think about? That you were right? She just almost- I hope just '_almost_' got raped by a ghost!"

"Yes, _almost_, Sam, she wasn't bleeding."

"Oh, and that's conclusive," Sam snorted.

"Yeah, she should have been bleeding. I'm pretty sure she's a virgin."

_Silence._

"What the fuck is wrong with you? After what just happened to her?! What is your problem?" Sam snapped.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean defended indignantly, "I wasn't insulting her!"

"Oh right, Dean."

"Why are you so defensive of her? What, is she like your pet?"

"Dean, just stop talking," Sam warned with a dangerous tone in his voice.

"Or what?" challenged the eldest, raising an eyebrow.

"Or so help-"

He was cut off by Lory's light and (unbeknownst to the brothers) deliberate coughing and groaning. Sam turned to her, smiling softly.

"Hey… You all right?"

"I'll live…" she croaked, weakly returning the smile.

"You, uhm, you had us worried," Dean tentatively, sounding slightly apologetic for whatever reason, but mostly put-off.

"Sorry…" she replied instinctively.

"No, I am. I shouldn't have made a big deal about the bathroom. Really, it was my bad. If I would have thought-"

"Dean, it's okay. I'm fine. He didn't r-… he didn't do anything."

"Glad to hear that," the eldest nodded, "but from now on, we use the goddamn buddy system. These legion fuckers aren't dicking around anymore. We gotta…"

And she zoned, smiling softly. She had lost some blood but gained an apology.

Perhaps she would win him yet.

.


	13. Love Isn't in the Job Description

"Bobby!" Dean greeted to the upper-middle-aged man as he, his brother and their cohort entered the man's abode.

They shared a quick, masculine embrace before Bobby pulled away to repeat the gesture with the youngest Winchester boy.

"Sup, Bobby?" Sam smiled, patting his back good-naturedly.

"Same old. What do we have here?" he asked, standing back to take in Lory's round, brown, unfamiliar face

"Hi," the girl waved shyly, "I'm Lory."

She extended her hand and Bobby took it, toning down the firmness of his grip, but not quite enough, leaving her hand throbbing a bit.

"Nice to meet you, Lory. Sam was just telling me about you on the phone. You sure got an interesting story. Come on in, darlin', got someone who wants to meet you."

"Bobby!" called a female voice from within, just beyond the door, "Those my boys?"

"Hey, Pamela!" Dean called inside as he scooted past Bobby and Lory, Sam following.

The boys greeted the dark-haired woman in the Aviators with warm hugs and amicable kisses on the cheek.

"How you been, Pamela?" Sam asked, sitting beside her as Dean took the arm of the sofa.

"Life is good. Business is good. How about you boys? Where's the Gladys to your Pips?" she smiled, planting her hands squarely on the brothers' nearest thighs.

"Chatting it up with Bobby," Dean sighed just as the aforementioned entered the living room.

Bobby made their presence known when he cleared his throat.

"Hate to bust up a reunion, but, Pam, here's the woman of the hour."

Pamela tilted her head upward, extending her arms.

"Well, come on here, hun!"

Lory made her way to Pamela, smiling from ear to ear.

"Hi. I'm-"

"Honey, I know all about you. I'm Pamela. You come on and have a seat next to me. Sammy, you move those cute little buns over."

"Actually, Pam, we were thinking about popping back out real quick, anyway-" interjected Dean, "get us some grub from that diner up the road."

"We were?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, we were. Vamos, little brother," Dean beckoned as they headed back toward the front door, "Anybody want anything special?"

"Anything you get is fine by me, darlin'. As long as it's free, I'm good," Pam nodded.

"Same," Lory added, turning toward the brothers.

"Hell. bring me chicken feed," Bobby grunted, "long as I don't have to cook it."

"All right," nodded Dean, "be back in a little bit."

As the brothers hopped into the car, Sam asked, "Now why didn't we pick up the food on the way here?"

"Because this isn't about food. I wanted to get Lory out of the car so we can talk, man to man…Man to Sam…" he teased

"Okay, what about?" he shrugged.

"I…think we should leave her with Pam and Bobby for a while…"

"Dean-"

"Hear me out, Sammy," Dean pleaded, "After what happened, it would be the responsible thing to do. At least until we get this legion thing cleared up. But we can't do that if we're babysitting her."

"Isn't that the exact reason why the angels brought her to us?" Sam rationalized.

Rolling his eyes, Dean sighed, "The angels don't run shit. They're not the ones who are responsible for her."

"She's not a child, Dean."

"But we have to watch her like she is! A girl like her should not be gallivanting around while something like this is going on. She's susceptible to all sorts of horrible shit that an eighteen year old girl-

"_Nineteen…_ Shit, nineteen…" Sam grumbled to himself.

"What?" Dean asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Her birthday. It was yesterday. Aw, shit, man. That happened to her on her birthday… And she didn't even get a 'happy birthday' from us."

"Well, you forgot and I didn't give it a second thought- or first thought, really. It's not like we had a shitload of time to memorize fun facts about her, like her date of birth. Hell, sometimes, I can't even remember mine.

"But, she's so far from home…"Sam began sympathetically, "And with strangers… And then _that _happened to her. Can you imagine what she must be going through?"

"Exactly. It's not too late for her to hold on to some normalcy- or at least not be attacked by things. That's been our whole lives, she's just a newbie. I don't know if she can hack it."

"But the angels-"

"Fuck the angels, Sam! Look at what they almost did to Anna. Do you seriously think they're always right?"

"They've got to be right about this."

"How are you so sure?" Dean asked, turning to his brother.

"Because I know. Trust me," Sam said with a tone of finality.

Dean scanned the road silently for a few seconds before softly asking, "You're not like trying to fuck her, are you?"

"Dean, what the hell? No!"

"Hey, you two just seem awfully close."

"We're close because we have a lot in common."

"Oh, come on! Like what?"

"You know, good people with freakish powers, you riding our asses all the time."

"Touche," he shrugged.

There was a sustained silence in the car as Sam looked out the window and Dean kept his eyes on the road. This lasted a couple minutes, before Sam's voice sliced through the tension.

"If you really must know…" he trailed.

"_Yes_?" urged Dean

"The day Lory and me were talking, while you were working on the car and you walked in…"

"Yeah?"

"She was telling me about these dreams… About _us_, Dean. She's been having them for years- like she's been glimpsing into our lives. She knows what happened to mom."

Clearing the lump from his throat a bit, Dean questioned in disbelief, "W-what?"

"She saw it. In her dreams. I can tell just by looking into her eyes that she knows things about us that no one else does- even us, you know? Our destinies are intertwined. There's no doubt about it, she's connected to us- more specifically, to _you_, Dean. That's why she lo…" Sam trailed, his lips freezing in an "O" and staying there as a look of remorse flooded his face.

"'She lo'?" Dean asked, scrunching up his face in complete puzzlement, "What the hell is that? Is that like Ebonics or something?"

"You know…" Sam said with an awkward smile, backed into a corner and completely realizing it.

"No, actually, I don't."

"Sure, you do! ….She lo…" he paused before going with literally the first thing that popped into his head other than various curse words, "Low low low low low low… Applebottom jeans! Boots with the fur! Nana nana na! You know! She-"

"Cut the crap, Sammy," Dean cut in sharply, unable to stand seeing Sam making that big of a fool of himself.

"These dreams…" Sam began again, "They were mostly about you- your life- I guess that means she's somehow more closely related to you…"

"Unlikely, but I'll bite. Continue."

"Well, having all these dreams over the years- it's like she knows us- _you_- and I guess somehow, she's…"

"_Yes_, you can do it, Sam…" he coaxed sarcastically, "Short sentences."

"She's in love with you, you asshole!"

At that point, the boys went slamming forward as the car came to an abrupt halt.

"She WHAT?" Dean yelled, looking as though he might burst a vein from what could either be outrage or fear.

"Do you WANT to kill us?" Sam shouted, his heart still pounding.

"How do you know that?" Dean demanded.

"Well, first, Ruby brought it to my attention-"

"Oh- Ruby AKA Mrs. Reliable, okay."

"But then Lory confirmed it," he added.

"What?! This is crazy! SHE is crazy!" Dean began to rant, brandishing his hands.

"Don't make such a big deal out of this," Sam pleaded, "Please?"

"Now did she use the word 'love'?" he urged.

"Not exactly, but do you see the way she looks at you?"

"Yeah… "he trailed, his eyes shifting around as he searched his brain, a montage of moments flooding to him, "_Yeah_!" he hissed through a grimace.

"Listen, Dean," Sam began, "you gotta be cool about this. You can't let her know I told you. You gotta act naturally- or maybe even a little nicer, so she won't catch on. Or at least so you won't hurt her feelings... more than usual."

"No!" Dean said as if responding to the most ridiculous idea he had ever heard, "If I'm nice to her she might try to kiss me or something!"

"Dean, she's not a disease!"

"Nah, more of a staff infection."

"You should be flattered. I would be!"

"But she's creepy, and weird, and tubby…"

"And sweet, and smart, and cute."

"Puppies are cute, Sam. Listen, if she's so great, why don't do me a solid and hook up with her so she can… like…stop-" he gulped,." _loving_ me."

"Why does it upset you so much?" Sam asked, genuinely curious.

Dean sat with a serious look on his face.

"Sam, even if she was my type- which she's a pretty far cry from- I don't do love. The most I do is infatuation- and the sex has to be pretty damn good for that to happen. And even if that wasn't the case, in our line of work, we can't really afford to be in love, can we?"

Sam sat for a moment, the words sitting heavy on his mind for a while before finally replying, "No… I guess we can't…"

"That's right," Dean nodded triumphantly, "Now let's go get that food. You can bring your little girlfriend some belated birthday pie. Sure she'll appreciate it."

.


	14. Dean, The Drama Queen

The Winchester boys re-entered their "Uncle" Bobby's, both toting brown paper bags (Sam held a two-liter along with his) that damn near dripped diner-food-residue onto the hardwood. As soon as the door opened, they were met with the sounds of laughter- Pamela's light-hearted half-cackle, and another unfamiliar, feminine laugh. They knew it had to have been Lory's, but neither of them had really heard her laugh. The most either of them had heard out of her was a sheepish giggle, but _this _particular laugh was bubbly-bold, though light in tone and pitch, and it incited a slight grin from the youngest Winchester. It would soon fade.

"See? She's happy here, already," Dean mused with a triumphant smir, completely obliterating the moment.

With a warning tone, Sam cut his eyes at him, "_Dean_…"

"You're right, no big decisions on a empty stomach, huh?"

With a clap on his brother's back, Dean led the way into the party.

"What did we miss?" he asked with a sideways smile, glancing between Pamela and Lory.

"Oh, nothing," shrugged the older of the ladies before they both repressed slowly emerging giggles.

"I see…" he nodded, giving Lory an overtly suspicious look, but in a tone that would conceal his demeanor from the sightless Pamela.

The girl simply shrunk back, lowering her head like a reprimanded puppy.

"Well, hope you guys are hungry," Sam piped good-naturedly, rusting the bags a bit, "We've got enough food here for an army of linebackers."

"Where's Bobby?" Dean asked suddenly.

"Bathroom," Lory nodded in her meek way, still avoiding his eyes.

Placing his bags in Sam's already loaded arms, he bounded up the stairs without another word before he could acknowledge his brother's protests. Leaning against the hallway wall in front of the bathroom door, he waited impatiently, arms folded across his chest. When the door finally swung open, Bobby jumped back a little in start before adjusting his cap and nodding to the younger man.

"Might want to wait a couple minutes before you go in there…"

"No, I'm good, Bob. Walk with me. Talk with me."

Not awaiting an answer, his long arm swung over Bobby's age-rounded shoulders.

"Uhm, 'kay…"

"Not that way," he said, spinning them to face the way opposite the stairs. "So how are things?"

"Good… You okay, son?" he asked more out of concern than politeness.

"I'm great… You gettin' on with Lory okay?"

Arching an eyebrow, the older man replied, "She's a sweet girl…from what I can tell from knowing her thirty minutes. You know, this hallway is a bit too cramped for two full-grown men to be standing widthwise-"

"I need you to tell me what she's been saying to Pamela," he said in a grave, flat tone.

"What? Why?"

"Have they been talking about me?"

"…You been sniffing glue?"

"Have they?" Dean urged relentlessly.

"I wouldn't know! I've been up here with the mud guts for 'bout the last ten minutes. What's it to you? …Dean, what did you do to that girl? You knock her up?"

"What? No! Listen, you're not going to believe this…But…Sam just told me that she told him she's…"he paused a second, gathering the strength to continue, "in _love_ with me…"

"Hmm, really? _Why_?"

"What do you mean 'why'?" he asked indignantly.

"She was just in a mental hospital, why would she go and latch onto a nutcase soon as she gets out? What is wrong with you? And Sam told me how you've been picking on that poor girl-"

"Oh, God, not you, too…" he sighed, "Listen, Bobby, this girl makes me uncomfortable. From the very first moment I met her, she has. And now a little over a couple weeks has gone by and she's _in love_ with me? Tell me you think that this is even just a _little_ fucked up, " he rambled desperately.

"I think that sweet, innocent girls fall for guys who drive big, badass cars and carry guns, all the time- even when I was your age."

"Bobby, the way she looks at me- it's freaky. It's like she's penetrating my mind…. She HAS before. I'm just… I'm not comfortable around her. I have trouble sleeping in the same room with her. It's like I can feel her eyes on me."

"I think you're reading way too far into this…Dean, it's a crush. Women like you. You're a goodlooking kid. It happens. I'm positive she's not thinking about holding you down and have her way with you, all right? I still don't understand why you're letting this bother you."

"I don't expect you to. Nevermind…" Dean sighed dejectedly. "Forget I said anything."


	15. Dean's A Dick

When everyone's mug was full of coffee, and properly creamed and sugared (if they so desired; Bobby took his black, and Dean wanted no milk with his sugar and coffee) it was time to get down to business.

"Okay, so let's talk turkey," Dean began, the self-elected facilitator of this discussion. "We need to figure something out. Quick."

"That, we already have figured," Bobby grunted before bringing his cup to his bearded face.

With a sharp look at Bobby, Dean continued, "We have something pretty nasty on our hands and virtually no way to deal with it. There's no rewind button on this. All we can do is fight it, and we sure as hell can't do that alone. So, Bobby-"

"Yep?"

"We're going to need the contact info of every single hunter you have ever come across. If you don't have the info, give us a name, we'll look 'em up."

"That's gonna be a lot of lookin', boys," he sighed, shaking his head.

"We don't have much of a choice," Sam shrugged, the only member of the party who was unseated and on edge.

While the men dominated the conversation, Pamela simply responded with her face. Lory sat stirring her completely mixed coffee, her eyes darting between each man as he spoke.

"Even if I knew more than the handful of hunters that I do," Bobby began gravely, "there ain't a way in hell that there's gonna be enough to match every pissed-off spirit that's been raised. And somehow I'm convinced you don't even know how many that is."

"We've got to do something," Dean replied simply, stroking the roughness of his chin and cheeks, "and until we can find an umbrella solution, this is pretty much what we've got. Besides, if we tell our friends to tell their friends, it'll get to everybody… Eventually… All we need is for everyone to be on the lookout. Most hunters with common sense will know something's up soon, anyway."

"I'll see what I can find out about this," Sam volunteered, pulling out his phone as though no one could hear it vibrating and leaving the kitchen.

"Right… Do that…" Dean grunted sourly behind him.

Pamela gracefully settled her arms on the table, leaning slightly forward with an exhausted sigh.

"Well, if you boys got this thing all figured out, what do you need me for?"

Lory looked up immediately. The same question had been bouncing around in her mind.

Dean sighed, slightly arching his brow, "We had- _I _had an idea. You see, you know that Lory-"

The girl's gaze shot to him upon the mention of her name.

He continued, nodding toward the girl without his eyes grazing her form "is like a ghost-whisperer, what have you. From what we know- what she's told us- is that she doesn't know much more about it than that. But I was hoping that you might be able to dig deeper, kinda like… like with Anna. Maybe there's something in her that she doesn't know she has that we can awaken to stop this-"

"Wait a second," Lory chimed in, "you want to canvas my psyche?" she asked for clarification.

"We need to stop this thing, Lory. You of all people should want to. I thought you wanted to help me and Sam, huh? Isn't that why you're here?" he challenged.

The blankness left her face immediately and her permanent pout formed a hopeless "O" like a fish drowning in air.

"I'm not here for you to decide without my consent that you're going to let a stranger dig for buried treasure in my head!" she protested with an indignant squint, making her eyes even tighter, "No offense, Pamela," she added quickly.

Showing her palms, the psychic replied, "None taken."

Digging his forearms into the table, Dean leaned across it, locking eyes with Lory in the coldest way, his jaw stiffening.

"Last I checked, you were a firm believer in brain-picking."

"I've never picked anything," she spat defensively, "Catching vibes from someone and searching their mind for God knows what are two completely different things."

Her hands cupped around her mug to conceal their trembling.

"Why are you making such a big deal out of this, Dolores?" Dean asked very softly like the good cop, "What are you hiding?"

She looked at him as though he had just reached across the table and slapped her. It would have been easier for her to give a response if he had.

"You don't even realize how big of a dick you are, do you?" she asked as coolly and blatantly as she would if asking for the time.

"Excuse me?" was all he could muster, his eyebrows shooting up into his hair.

Pamela held back a smile but Bobby neglected to give Dean the courtesy.

"Who do you think you are?" she asked, rising from the table.

He'd never felt so small in his life…

"Well, dramatic much?" he scoffed.

"Where do you get off with this? I can take you being a jerk to me for whatever reason, but I'm not going to let you push me around. I have my reasons, and I'm not going to do this."

Feeling the need to do something, Bobby sighed finally, "Nobody's going to make you, hun."

"Go ahead and baby her, Bobby. Let her be a selfish, spoiled little fucking brat. Maybe Casper will pop her cherry this time."

Lory's feet hit the linoleum as hard and fast as they could carry her, then the hardwood of the living room, then out the door.

Turning to Dean with a look of reproach, Bobby stared Dean down for a long, hard moment.

"What?" Dean said impatiently.

"She's right. You are a dick."

"Oh, come on! Help me out, Pamela."

"A big, veiny dick," she nodded matter-of-factly.

Lory didn't know where she was going, except that it was far away from Dean. Just ran round the back of the house and kept on running. When her legs got tired, she limped. She didn't notice she was cold until she started shivering, her tears stinging on her face. So that was what she loved? Someone cruel and vindictive and spiteful? She chuckled softly to herself- madly. He was neither cruel nor vindictive nor spiteful. He simply hated her. With every ounce of his being.

The deep, penetrating stab of it, paired with the weak burning in her legs and lungs caused her to collapse. Balled on top of her knees, she lifted up her head yonder toward the dark towers a ways before her. It took her the longest time to realize that they were cars- stacked one on top of the other. The thought made her throbbing head giggle (she wasn't sure whether or not her mouth followed suit).

"That's funny…" she said, either in her head or aloud.

She couldn't tell that either.

Then it all went black.

.


	16. Dig

Lory lay like a comatose rock in Bobby's spare bed.

"What could you possibly have said to her to make her pass out, Dean?"

"Sam," he replied in exasperation, "quit riding my ass."

"Actually, I don't think I will, Dean!" pushed the youngest Winchester, "Why should I? You never stop riding hers!"

"Oh, I'm the villain!"

"You're goddamn straight, Dean!"

"Boys-" Bobby tried to cut in.

"If you weren't phone-fucking Black Magic Woman, then maybe you could have jumped in and played White Knight with your _other_ girlfriend, the way you always do. But, you snooze, you loose."

Sam was speechless. Dean was content.

"That is enough, goddamnit!" Bobby spat, thoroughly fed up, "Now, this girl is laying up here passed out over something you said to her, Dean. Now I don't know what it was supposed to mean, but it must've been ugly to make her run out like that. Sam…"

The youngest looked up at the mention of his name.

"Lory has a mouth. She can take up for herself. Had you been back there, trust me, you would've seen it," he said with a slight reminiscing smile, "All fighting with your brother is going to do is make things a hell of a lot worse. I can't imagine what it must be like for that girl to be stuck in a car with you bozos arguing all day. Ain't ya'll a little old for that sibling rivalry crap? If you put half that energy into that Lilith bitch, she'd be long gone by now."

All either of them could sit there, both looking and feeling stupid.

"Dean," Bobby continued, "I understand what you were trying to do with Lory and Pamela, and even though you went about it half-assed- God knows why you didn't think of _asking_ the girl- I do agree with you. It makes sense."

"Thank you!" Dean said with a gesture akin to a reverse field goal sign.

"But I think you might have blown any chance of her letting Pamela into her head. You catch more flies with honey," Bobby shrugged.

"I don't catch flies, I hit them with things," Dean retorted flatly, leaning forward in his chair.

Sam leaned against the dresser, looking over Lory's face. It was as blank as it was when she was awake. Dean looked over at her, too. He couldn't help but feel a tiny pang of something that might slightly resemble guilt. He even took it as far as wondering whether or not he pushed too hard. He quickly dismissed the idea.

"Bobby, bring Pamela."

Bobby examined his serious face with curiosity, unmoving.

"What are you planning to do?" Sam asked, speaking the question that Bobby wanted to ask, but was sure he knew the answer to.

"We can take advantage of this."

"Dean, come on," Sam sighed half-pleading.

"Don't fight me on this," Dean replied in much the same tone, "Fighting this thing is my responsibility. What can it hurt? She probably won't even know."

"He's right, Sam," Bobby shrugged, "What she doesn't know won't hurt her."

Smoothing his hand over his chin, and then refolding his arms, Sam started tentatively, "I'm not involved in this…"

His brother nodded.

When Bobby returned with Pamela, and led her to Lory's bedside, her hand immediately went to the girl's forehead.

"Half the work's done," she smirked but it faded, "I don't know how I feel about doing this, though. Besides, what exactly am I looking for again?"

"We need to know what she can do," shrugged Dean.

"I might not even have to touch her mind to sense her powers," she said, sounding relieved.

Dean was slightly disappointed.

Pamela's fingers curled slightly, feeling the air around Lory's body.

"The only thing I'm feeling are things we know about… But there may be something that needs to be unlocked…I would have to dig…"

"Do it," Dean urged, "Whatever it takes."

The psychic's face settled into a look of absolute focus and determination. If something was there, she would find it. However, the younger woman's serene face began to shift as well. Her permanent pout gained in definition. Her thick, soft brows furrowed and from behind her closed lips, a soft grunt escaped.

"Whatever you're doing, do it quick," advised Bobby,"She's waking up."

Pamela said nothing as both female faces screwed in contempt for one another.

"Maybe you should stop this," Sam offered as he shakily pushed a stray lock back from his face.

His eyes never left the now writhing girl.

"We can't afford to stop. Not while we have the chance to do this."

The words rolled from Dean's throat, low and raspy.

"It's hurting her!" Sam protested angrily, wondering if he was the only sane member of the party

."It's not," Pamela said impatiently, "she's just fighting."

"In her sleep?" Dean questioned in disbelief.

"She's strong," Pamela continued quickly, "She doesn't have to even really know what's going on to guard herself."

Dean rose from his seat, asking no one in particular, "Why the hell is she fighting so hard?"

"Wouldn't you?" Bobby replied quickly, and in a tone that implied he needed no answer.

Ignoring him completely, Dean nodded to Pamela, "What are you getting?"

"I'm trying not to touch anything I don't need to," she explained.

"Sift through it all," he urged with a tone of finality.

Sam lifted his head and turned it very slightly to the side, studying his brother for a second before speaking his conclusion. He scoffed.

"You're taking advantage of this, aren't you?"

"Sam, what are you talking about?" he asked dismissively.

"What has she ever done but help us?"

"This is not a blow to Lory! This about saving people!" he barked.

"This is about looking for reasons not to trust her! What is with you?"

"_Sam_…" he said through clenched teeth, but he may as well have bared his teeth told him to back off because that's what was heard, and Sam heeded.

Dean meant what he said. This was bigger than his distaste for Lory. If he just wanted to mess with her, he could do a damn good job of it without Pamela's help. If she was anything more than just an extra person to worry about, then he was damn sure going to use it.

_The angels hooked us up for a reason, right? _

Whether or not he liked it, and despite the fact that he would never admit it aloud, he knew that their destinies were intertwined. Even though everything about her made him itch inside, he had come to accept that he was stuck with her. After hearing all that Sam had told him, he had reached the conclusion that she was either insane- no, not either, he took that as a given- that she was either lying or this was some hardcore match made in heaven. He laughed inside at both the pun and the irony.

He didn't hate the girl. Despite what anyone in that room thought, he didn't hate her. He wanted no harm to come her- and that's what hate usually entails. Back at that haunted gas-station, Mr. Ice King's heart sped up. He ran to that bathroom as fast as he could, kicked down the door as hard as he could, and carried her back to the car as gentle as he could without having her hanging outside in ripped panties for too long. No, he didn't hate her at all. He simply resented her.

She was like a disturbance in the force- the sour note that screwed up the harmony they had going. Since the very first moment he and Sam met her, they quarreled, and it was _different_. Up until that point most of their fights would go as follows: Dean would do something stupid, or Sam would say something gay. One would call out the other. Sam would call Dean a jerk, Dean would call Sam a bitch, and they would go get cheese fries and cold beers everything would be peachy keen. Even when things got a little out of hand, they would have one big and then everything would be cool for another month or two. But they'd been fighting nonstop for weeks. Sam was beginning to piss Dean off as much as Lory did. All because he never missed a beat when it came to taking up for her. The closer Sam and Lory got, the farther apart Sam and Dean grew. In Dean's mind, it made sense to blame it all on Lory.

The funny thing was, Dean could usually handle resenting someone. He resented a lot of people in his life- most people he met. But the thing he couldn't handle was fear.

"Dean!" Pamela repeated, waning patience.

"Huh?" he said, jumping a little, clearing both his throat and his mind, shaking his reverie.

He looked at his hands, wondering why they were shaking, but then he heard the pounding and clacking and realized that he was shaking because the room and everything in it was shaking.

"I asked if you want me to keep going!" she urged, now holding onto the girl who was writhing feverishly, "She's putting up a wall, but I can break through it- but God knows what that'll do."

"I knew this was a bad idea…" Sam hissed, now at Lory's bedside, clutching her forearm, "Pamela, you gotta stop this."

"No, Pamela," barked Dean.

"Okay…" she warned before hissing, "Come on, honey…Let me in… Let me in!"

The blinking of the lights gave the room a hint of unreality.

"Bobby!" pleaded Sam helplessly for some assistance.

"LET ME IN!"

Everyone barely had enough time to shield themselves from the shards of mirror that flew from the dresser.

"HOLY SHIT!" Bobby exclaimed, hitting the deck.

At this point, Pamela couldn't quit if she wanted to. She was so close… so close…

Lory was bolt upright, her eyes wide and unyielding, starring straight ahead at the dresser and frame, and the shards of glass that still managed to remain attached to the wood. Sam gently squeezed her wrist.

"Lory… Are you all right?"

Her eyes found Dean's, which were as big as sage-colored saucers, and locked on them. The fear and disbelief in his face said it all, and it was a good thing, too, because for once, Dean was speechless and soon to be breathless.

The thing to unwind him was this:

With the deepest contempt, her eyes blazing with the hurt of the betrayed, she bellowed in a voice like a growl. "I told you NOT to dig…"

.


	17. Madness? This is Supernatural!

"What the fuck was that?! Lory- Oh, no no no, don't you _dare_ wal-"

The moment Dean reached out to grip Lory's upper arm, the look she gave him- like that of a rabid animal- made him regret it, though he was far too petrified to remove the hand until she spoke..

"It wouldn't be wise to piss me off any more than you already have… "

Three other jaws dropped while Dean's tightened and hers quivered with rage. He thought it best to tread much more lightly than he wished he could.

"Or what?" he mumbled, half-afraid to speak and not daring look her in the face.

His manhood obligated him to challenge her, but to tell the truth, he shuddered to find out.

She smiled cruelly at him, "Or I might send you back where you belong, you stupid son of a bitch."

This time Dean did look at her, but only to make sure the words he just heard had actually come from her mouth.

Never- never in a million years would she have imagined feeling those feelings of rage ever again- especially not toward _Dean_. No matter what he said or did, it never would have done much more than irritate her, but he had to dig- he just had to dig. And right then, she wanted to kill him. And he'd just put the noose around his neck.

"What did you call me?"

"Better than you deserve," she snarled.

"It's going to take a lot more than you huffing and puffing to scare me, little girl," he scoffed, convincing no one.

"Right, Dean. Because you're so tough and sooo special... Right? The king of the fucking hill! You're Mr. Chosen One, right? God handpicked you! You don't have to follow any goddamn rules!" she continued, waxing volume and anguish,"You don't have to listen to anyone! You can just step on people because you're so cool and handsome and important and you kill things and listen to acid rock and drive a vintage car! What Dean wants, Dean fucking gets, right?! Well, you got it…"

"Wait, wait- you don't even know me or anything about me! You have no right to judge me on ANYTHING!"he fumed (because he knew her words were true) and began to talk defensively with his hands, "I did what I had to do because this is MY responsibility. I'm Peyton, you're Eli. I'm number one on this, you're number two. You are here to help ME! Now, if you don't want to do what it takes to do that, then just say the word, because God knows I won't hesitate to leave you here."

Her full lips cracked into a slight, incredulous smile. And then a little snort escaped her, and that grew to a chuckle which exploded into mad, hysterical laughter. At that point, if everyone else in that room had not been thoroughly afraid, that did it.

"You're number one…" she repeated, drunk with madness "Top dog. Head honcho… Dean, you are a chicken shit. You can't feel big without making others feel small. You don't really feel good until you're making someone else hurt. That's why you pick on Sam. That's why you actually like doing nothing with your life except killing things. And that's why- every once in a while- you like to wrap your hands around girls' throats when-"

"You're fucking psychotic!" he scoffed, and that was all he could do.

Denying it would bring him further embarrassment because they both knew it was true.

"Oh, it's not so fun when people poke around in your brain, is it? And don't think for a second that I don't know about all those souls you Ginsued in the p-"

Her words were cut off by the smack heard round the world- or at least around the room. His hand stung almost as much as her face did. Bobby wanted to take Dean by the shoulders and shake him, but he could not move- literally. Sam, who had been stupefied throughout most of the ordeal sprung to his feet- or his foot. Mid-stride, he was frozen in position.

"Lory!" he cried helplessly, watching his brother writhe against the wall, about two feet off the ground.

Dean clutched at the invisible hands that clenched his throat, turning beet-red, while Lory twisted and manipulated her fingers- one set directed to the Winchester that struggled for his life, and the other holding the helpless spectators frozen in their respective positions. The look on her face was indescribable... But if one had to put it into words, they might say it almost like she was dying a painful death- and it was bliss.

"What's happening?!" Pamela cried, unable to rise from the bed.

And as quickly as all these events occurred, they ceased. Dean fell from the wall to his knees, still clutching his throat, and the others were free but they could do naught but remain in their places.

"I'm… I'm…" Lory stood trembling, tendrils of wet shine glittering on her mahogany face.

Dean simply looked up to her, his eyes begging her for mercy for whatever she may do next. Instantly, everyone (except Pamela, of course) could see the shame in remorse in her face.

"I didn't want to hurt you… I couldn't… I…" she muttered into blank space, her eyes wide and hollow, before directing her gaze to her still helplessly gasping beloved.

"I would never have hurt you…Do you see what you did to me?!"

She let out a cry like a wounded animal before clutching onto the walls, almost as weak as Dean now was, and staggering toward the ajar door.

"Lory!" Sam called helplessly again before finding his feet and allowing them to carry his now heavier weight toward her.

He reached out and grasped the air.

Without even turning around, she breathed, "Don't touch me… Please…. "

"Leave her be, Sam," advised Bobby, "Leave her be."

Only when she had finally disappeared from his sight did Dean remove his empty stare from her quaking legs. If his suspicions were wrong, and she had not been psychotic all along, there was no question that she now was. For once, he knew there was no denying it, no justification- He had pushed her too far.

.


	18. Heart to Heart

"God, Bobby, do you own a functioning umbrella?" Sam grunted in frustration as he sifted through the closet, which housed the largest collection of broken umbrellas that he had ever seen.

"Been meaning to throw those out… One of the blue ones ought to be all right..."

"Sam, don't do something stupid," Dean groaned in exasperation.

"Like what?" the younger brother shot back, "Like provoking Lory to…to do God know's what that was back there?"

"Like going after her- after _that_- after she specifically told you to leave her alone."

"Oh," he said with a bitter smile, "so now you care about Lory's wishes."

"Your life, more so," Dean scowled stubbornly, folding his arms across his chest.

"Lory wouldn't hurt me," Sam nodded matter-of-factly, "and she wouldn't have hurt you if you would have just left her alone. It's pouring out there, and I'm going to find her."

"I'm going with you," Bobby nodded, feeling the pangs of guilt.

Pamela emerged from the living room, her leather jacket donned and zipped.

"Not without me. I might be able to sense her. Don't worry, no probing needed."

"Dean, you stay here in case she comes back," Sam instructed, his tone dismissing any objections that may arise.

Dean held them back with a reluctant nod, his only comfort being the unlikelihood of her returning on her own.

"Fuck the umbrellas," sighed Sam finally, slamming the closet door, "Let's go."

Dean watched them file out, standing glued to his spot for a long moment. He thought about how close he came to dying just minutes ago. He wondered what caused Lory to grant him mercy just within seconds of him losing consciousness. Love? And finally, he questioned, in the event that she had not, where would he have ended up this time? The thought jarred him, causing him to sift frantically through his mind- through his recollection. Was there any reason why he didn't deserve to return to hell?

"Dean?"

Though soft and tender, the female voice that came from behind him caused Dean to jump and make a slight choking noise. Slowly, he turned, bringing his eyes to rove the girl's frame, which dripped from head to toe onto Bobby's area rug. Eyes wide, jaw clenched, he studied her for a long time. All of the malice seemed to have left her body, but still, his hands shook.

"I won't… I won't hurt you…" she half-whispered.

Flatly, not daring remove his eyes, Dean stated, "Everyone's out looking for you."

"I know. I waited for them to leave…" Watching his brows contort she added quickly, "I don't want to hurt you. I want to talk to you. "

He blinked.

"… I've got something ugly inside me, something that's very hard to control, but you have to understand, Dean, it doesn't define me. I am a good person. My situation and Sam's are very similar, except, instead of being tagged by a demon, they've got their hooks in me upstairs. But trust me, that doesn't make it any better."

"Whatever you think you need to explain to me, you don't," Dean assured her, but the only thing on his mind was the fact that was about five feet from the door.

"I do!" she cried desperately, extending her hand to him.

His thighs tugging on his heavy legs, Dean pleaded, but in his calmest and firmest voice, "Lory… Let me go…"

"Not until you listen to me, Dean," she replied in the same tone.

"Well, if you insist…" he smirked irritably.

"I haven't been completely honest with you guys…" she began.

"Really? I never would have guessed."

"What happened back there… It never would have happened if you hadn't sent Pamela into me. These powers, _this_, the ability to hold you down like this- it had been buried for well over two years. I locked it up because something terrible happened. These powers- they were not meant to be controlled. They were meant to kick in when I need them- like 'fight or flight', if you put the 'fight' on steroids…"

"The wind chimes? At the Fishers…" Dean inquired, his calmness surprising and reassuring to them both.

She smiled a little, "You're supposed to be the dumb one… Yeah, occasionally, when I got really angry I would have a little power fart, but nothing like this. My powers were pretty much dormant, like a volcano- giving off the occasional little puff of smoke, but generally harmless. Have you ever heard of the Volta experiment?"

"I think Sam listens to them…Why?"

She snickered a bit, "No, not Mars Volta. A long time ago, there was this scientist named Volta. He was like the father of electricity. Hence, the volt. He conducted an experiment where he took a dead frog's leg and electrified the nerves, causing the muscles to spasm and jump."

He frowned a little.

"That's interesting...?"

"That's what happened with me and Pamela tonight. Those powers were pretty much dead, like a detached limb. But her energy jumpstarted mine. Now, they're back. That's precisely why I didn't want her to go snooping."

"So, why didn't you just say something?"

She sighed, pausing for a long moment, examining the rug before bringing her softened eyes to meet his.

"From the moment we met, you distrusted me. All I've wanted to do since then was to change that. How would you have reacted if I told you all this before? Really."

"I wouldn't have trusted you," Dean replied, shrugging as if it were the only answer in the world.

"Exactly!"

"But lying to me and Sam all this time only makes me trust you even less," he confessed blatantly, shaking his head.

Slowly, carefully, she swayed over to him, just a thin layer of air separating them. Her eyes traversed the nine inches or so that divided their heights. Not looking back down at her was a thought that hadn't crossed Dean's mind. Their eyes were locked like the horns of two butting rams- a competition of sorts to see who could last the longest. Dean's cold stare was no match for the love in her eyes. He blinked rapidly twice.

"Dean Winchester, I would never hurt you."

Though a small part of him believed her, the bitter defiance in him would not let him go without replying "What do you call what just happened upstairs?"

"That wasn't me!" she pleaded softly, "Those things I said, what I did- when that happens to me, the powers take over and Lory just sits there watching…The same Lory would rather die than hurt you…" Her words formed a whisper.

At this point, Dean had forced himself to take a vast interest in the rug, which he could see over her shoulder. However, no interest could be vast enough to block out her words, or the way she said them, or the way he could feel her looking at him…Studying him…Admiring him. Her hand, cool and damp, brushed the burning roughness of his cheek. He pulled away, yet the feeling still tingled on his face.

"Don't."

"I know you wish I was pretty…" she said softly, lowering her eyes and watching his strong chest rise and fall, "I do, too."

"What does that have to do with anything? Why should I care what you look like?" he asked coldly.

"You wouldn't hate me…" she said pitifully, blinking away the sting in her eyes.

Dean was not in the mood to feed into her. It had been too long of a night for him to continue the conversation by telling her he didn't hate her. And there was no way in hell that he was going to indulge her fixation with him by telling her that she was pretty- or at least had her pretty qualities. He refused to tell her that her curves redeemed her weight, and that her lips were attractively shaped when she used them for smiling instead of speaking. Or the slight difference her rain-soaked white t-shirt made in his disdain for her. It had been far too long a night for that, and he wasn't going to make it any longer.

"Lory, let me go."

"Dean, I only held you for about two seconds," she smirked, quickly looking up at him in amusement before turning on her heel and walking toward the bright light of the kitchen.

And as he watched her, still gluing himself to his spot, he silently vowed never to admit any of those things to her…And never again to himself.

0000000000000000000000000000

"We've looked everywhere for her," Sam grunted in utter disdain as he dripped through the door, past his brother, "Bobby's dropping Pamela off. When he get's back we're going back out-"

"Relax, dude, she's here," Dean shrugged nonchalantly,"Came in right after you left."

He neglected to tell his brother that it happened deliberately.

"Oh, so you just let us search out there for an hour and a half? Thanks."

"I was going to call you, but Lory Shanghaied me into having a little heart-to-heart with her."

Sam raised his eyebrows.

"You didn't say anything offensive to her, did you?"

The older of the men scoffed, "Yeah, right, after what just happened? You're the smart one but I'm not stupid."

"Well, what did she say?" urged Sam, like a teenager hungry for gossip.

"A lot of things. She's asleep upstairs right now, so let's try to keep it down," he said in a hushed tone, moving closer to his brother and beginning to talk with his hands again. "This just proves what I've been saying about letting her go."

"Dean, we can't-"

"Hear me out, Sammy-"

"But this is your fault, not hers!" he whisper-yelled.

"Don't you think I know that? And don't you think I feel bad about it? But does that make her any less dangerous?"

Sam reasoned, "All you have to do is stop pushing her and she'll be fine. She doesn't want to hurt you! Loves you-"

"Yeah yeah yeah, Whatever. She didn't love me very much when she no-hands choke-slammed me upstairs."

"Uhm, because you slapped her? Which I still can't believe you did. I understand that it got intense up there, but she's a good girl, Dean, and you can't just be like 'Hey, God, I know you have this plan for us and all, but fuck you.' You'll get chucked right back downstairs."

"And what if she starts PMSing and sends me there? She just told me herself that she can't control her powers. And about how they got so out of control, she had to pretty much shut them down until they got flabby."

"Yeah, well what happened with her mom-"

"Her mom? What happened with her mom?"

Sam had betrayed her trust twice in one night, a new record.

"I'm not supposed to tell you this..." he began tentatively, "And knowing that I did could send her into a meltdown, thanks to you."

Clapping an encouraging hand on his shoulder, Dean, pleaded, "Come on, man, I won't say anything."

He took a large gulp of air before beginning, "Lory's mom was a bit of a religious zealot. When she found out Lory had powers, she went all 'get in the prayer closet' on her. She tried to having her prayed over, exorcised- and then she started trying to beat the 'evil' out of her."

Dean felt a slight wretching in his stomach. Sam could see it, but still he continued. His brother needed to hear this.

"It was like a gateway for her to start hating her. She rode her about everything- from her grades to her weight, and finally, she said something that made her snap. Lory made her fall down the stairs and put her in a wheelchair. Her mom told the police that she physically pushed her- because who would believe her, right? And then Lory told them what really happened, so they committed her. That's how she ended up at the Darcy Home."

Amidst all he was taking in and feeling- sympathy for Lory, guilt- he found the easiest emotion for him to accept at that point was anger. He tilted his head and stared at his brother accusatorily.

"You knew about all this- her powers, _everything_, and you waited until after the fact to tell me? You're just as guilty as I am! You could have prevented this!"

"I wasn't about to out her in front of you and everybody else- because then you would have gone on and used her secret as an excuse to have Pamela pick her mind, anyway."

"No, no, no, "Dean defended, "I'm not cruel. And more importantly, I'm not an idiot. I wouldn't have done anything that dangerous and you know it."

Sam shook his head in slight condescent.

"You really have no idea what it's like, do you?"

"What?" his brother asked thickly.

"To be a freak."

Dean was taken aback, and his face did not make it a secret.

Sam continued, waxing emotion and disgust, "I see the way you look at me- your own brother- sometimes. I don't know what goes on in your head about me and my powers exactly, but I'm sure I'm better off not knowing."

"Sam, I-"

"No, Dean. Don't deny it. You've touched me with a ten foot pole just because I can exorcise demons with my mind. How would you have treated Lory when you found out she actually hurt someone? I'm willing to bet you wouldn't hear one word about how hard it is... Because to people like you, once you're different, you're no longer human. You're not allowed to make mistakes."

"Whoa, whoa- hold up," Dean interrupted, squinching his brows, "What do you mean 'people like me'?"

Sam shook his wild and dripping head again. and smiled ruefully.

"Normal people, Dean."


	19. The Reckoning

"Yeah?" Sam answered impatiently, not caring enough to look at the caller ID.

"Hey, stranger…" replied the voice which was all ready to be sultry, but was shot down before she started.

"Hey, Ruby. What's up?" he prompted quickly and with an urgent expectation.

"Sorry, no new, juicy tidbits. I've been trying to get ahold of you for a few days because you never called me back."

He sighed, touching a hand to his forgetful head.

"I'm sorry, it's just been a madhouse. Lory-"

"Oh… _Lory_…" Ruby mimicked wryly.

"Yes, Lory. Since when do you have a problem with her?"

"I don't," she scoffed on the defense, "Since when does your world revolve around her? I mean, isn't her whole deal with your brother, not you?"

Rubbing his chin and resting his bottom against the hood of the Impala, Sam paused for an incredulous moment.

"What, am I not allowed to care about her? Are you jealous or something?"

"Should I be, Sam?" Ruby played- even better than any human woman would do.

But her partner served her back.

"I don't see why you should be…" he said in a light, patronly voice, "It's not like you and I are dating or anything, anyway…"

Sam was the only person in existence who knew that Ruby was capable of really hurting, and he would never want to abuse that. He didn't take pleasure in causing others pain. But still, something in him- the man in him- the _Dean_ in him- wanted to burst her bubble. That very same part of him wondered if she was right to be jealous.

"No. We're not, are we? …Listen, I have to go. You'll hear from me about the seals soon. Bye."

_Click._

He wondered what Lory was up to inside.

00000000000000000000000

Dean chewed on his pen, flipping through the little, dilapidated spiral memo pad that Bobby used as a contact book. The names with the little stars next to them were hunters. He'd only found about two so far.

"Bobby, do you _know_ any hunters besides us?" Dean called into the kitchen, "It took you two days to find this thing, and there aren't even any in here!"

Bobby emerged, mumbling something through his stuffed mouth, brandishing his sandwich.

"What?" Dean said irritably, not looking up from the book.

"There are more toward the back," he repeated, still chewing, "Mmm, damn good panini."

"Spread the wealth, Bob," Dean smirked, "I've been working hard out here!"

"Eh, well, maybe Lory will make you one."

The young man's eyebrow arched into his hairline. It was a tempting proposition…

"I'm good. I'll probably grab a burger or something later…" as he continued to flip through the notebook, causing a leaf to fly loose.

"Suit yourself…"

Lory smiled ruefully. She must have run her dishrag over that griddle pan about thirty times, her body on auto-pilot as she harkened sadly. She would have gladly made him a sandwich. She would gladly make him sandwiches and bake him pies and wax his car every day for the rest of her life.

"You know, Bobby wants to keep you," Sam teased in a voice that told Lory he was smiling, even though her back was to him.

"Oh, really?"

"Well, yeah. You cook and clean and barely say a word."

They chuckled as he clapped a hand on her shoulder.

"So, I'm a Stepford Wife?"

"No, you're a catch."

She twisted briefly, just long enough to take a lock of his hair between her fingers and give it a gentle tug.

"Okay, Dean, take off the wig. Wait, no, you just gave me a compliment. Nevermind."

Sam gave his weight to the counter, his lower back and palms the only things keeping him from flopping lazily backward. He could feel and she could hear the phone buzzing angrily in his pants but he didn't even flinch. He simply rolled his head toward her and he leaned in, as though preparing to divulge a valuable secret.

"You know, Dean's an ass…"

"Gasp. Really?" she scoffed sarcastically, sitting the griddle pan in the dish rack.

He answered the knock of opportunity, gently taking her wrist and coaxing her toward the back door.

"Come."

And she let him pull her along, flopping lazily behind him until he brought them to halt about five paces from the house. When he finally turned to face her, still holding her wrist, he looked down at her and sighed. The warmth and sincerity in his eyes averted the formidability of his height, which dwarfed hers by nearly a foot.

"I'm serious," he breathed finally.

"About?"

"Dean. He just doesn't get you."

"I've noticed, Sam."

He cleared the rasp from his throat.

"I'm sure he doesn't even think he's done anything wrong."

"Don't worry about it, Sam. I'm not worried about it, so you don't, okay?"

The chill from her left hand raised bumps upon his upper arm even through the thick, blue flannel.

There was something so soft and so vulnerable about her eyes. The way she trusted him. It was something he'd only seen in some distant, far-off part of his life. That part hadn't included Ruby. That little slice of time when life was pure (_she_, _Jessica_, was so pure…) And despite how fucked up they both were, Lory took him back there.

"Why?"

"Well, because there are far more important things for us to be worrying about right now."

"No, I mean, why do you still care for him? The way you've been looking at him the past few days… It's gotten even worse."

She sniggered, "You make it sound like some sort of psychosis."

"And it's not?" he challenged with perfect seriousness, "This- _He_ is not good for you."

"Nothing's ever going to happen with us, Sam, so I don't see why we're even having this discu-"

He interrupted, "That's the thing, Lory! I can see it eating away at you- and for what? For nothing! He doesn't give a damn about you, Lory, so don't give a damn about him."

"Honestly, do you think it works that way?"

He wondered if she knew she was pretty. Following, he wondered if she really was, or it was just him. He glanced over her sadly smiling face and reaffirmed.

_No, she's definitely pretty._

He figured she didn't know. Girls like her never know.

"Just… know that you're not the problem, okay?"

She nodded like a little girl confirming that she did indeed want a cookie. She slipped an arm around his waist.

"Thank you, Dr. Phil."

As usual when around her, he couldn't help but smile.

"You're very-"

Sam threw his arms around their heads, shielding them from the bursting glass of the windows.

"The fuck?!" Sam erupted, his eyes squinting briefly at the gaping space where Bobby's back window used to be.

Several crashes and bangs followed.

"Dean…" was all Lory could muster, her eyes darting from side to side.

"Stay here. Or better yet, go hide."

"What? No!" she started to charge toward the house, but he pulled her back from around the waist.

"Ple-"

But at that time the back door had already flung open of its own volition- perhaps with a _little _push from Lory.

"DEAN!" she called desperately from the threshold.

It was happening.

_So soon? Why so soon? God, please, I love these boys…_

"Lory, no!" he sputtered through the blood that dripped from his mouth.

His eyes darted between the tall, dark man that held him aloft by his collar and the girl whose tiny fists trembled. She removed her eyes only once, to acknowledge Bobby's writhing body that lay next to another man- one whose chest housed Dean's special dagger.

"_Lory…_" the dark man hissed in utter delight, "Rolls off the tongue…"

Sam omitted a little noise akin to "umph!" in response to a blow to the back of the head. Lory whipped around. He, too, was on his knees.

_Where the hell do they keep coming from?_

But she realized it was the same person- demon.

_Crafty little fuckers, aren't they?_

"Leave…" she said flatly, her eyes drilling into bottomless black of his.

"I don't think you're in the position to give orders, my little hushpuppy…" he smiled, raising his hand toward her like a gun- and by the look of dissatisfaction, a malfunctioning one.

"Shooting blanks, Alistair?" she quipped, her own hand outstretched.

With a dismissive flick of her wrist, he went flying into the wall.

"Impressive," he laughed, noisily resetting the bones in his neck. "But no more Mr. Nice Demon."

The look of pleasure in his eyes faded as wisps of black smoke began to snake from every hole in his head. And suddenly retracted.

"Oh, Sam… Tsk tsk tsk. Naughty naughty."

Tossing Dean aside like a rag, Alistair began to cross the room.

"Hey!" Lory halted him, "I don't think you want to touch him."

The devil-may-care danger in her tone could rival Dean on his best day. It wasn't a bluff.

"Oh, I think I do, my dear. In fact, I think I'd rather like to do more than that- perhaps sever his spinal cord so he can spend the last minutes of his life watching me ravish your fat little bonbon. But all in due time."

Her arm out-stretched, and he trembled a while, his knees buckled and he hit the refrigerator, close to knocking it over.

"Okay, now you're starting to piss me off," he snarled.

"Are we having fun yet? No?"

His elbow inverted completely, causing a slight yelping noise to erupt from him.

"Now?" she teased.

That same animalism returned to her eyes, but much stronger. Without the internal struggle.

"You're enjoying this, you fat, black cunt," he snarled, but almost as though he was as well.

"Nah…" she shrugged

He still lay against the fridge, spread-eagle. His knees popped much in the same way his elbow did, only with a much uglier sound- paired with the roar from his mouth.

"Okay, _now_ I'm having fun. Little tip Alistair…Don't-"

The toe of his shoe connected hard with his nose.

"Fuck-"

Again.

"With my-"

Drawing blood.

"Boys."

And he collapsed in a writhing, shaking heap on top of himself.

The time for fun and games had quickly come to a close. Dean lay in the corner, but he began to pull himself up against the wall, nursing his side and breathing raggedly. She raced to him.

"Dean… Honey… Are you all right?"

He looked down into her eyes and squinted. Something was there. He couldn't even begin to label it.

"Thanks to you," he nodded, "Sam…"

"I'm here," he groaned, still on his stomach, lifting his violently throbbing head a bit and quickly regretting it.

"Thanks, Lor-"

"I will always love you, Dean Winchester," she whispered in one breath.

Even if he could think up a response, her lips would have smothered it. All he could do in his dazed, confused and injured state was allow the oral assault to commence and take her thrashing tongue... and for a fraction of a second, awkwardly enjoy it

"Bye, you guys," she gulped, turning around just in time to watch Bobby's knife- _the_ knife- still caked with a bit of cheese, enter her body. She felt the windlessness first, and then the pain.

"Lory..? LORY!"

In the few seconds it had taken for it to register in Dean's mind, Lory had already collapsed in his arms.

Sam simply looked up in horror. It wasn't the blood that sparked the rage, but the way the knife handle protruded from her- almost like a terrible phallus.

Hurt. Fear. _Rage_ coursed through him. His face and eyes burned, _flamed_- tears like acid padding on the linoleum. And Dean just gaped -numb yet aching- and held her as she faded… Black and cold.

As if it hadn't burned enough, Alistair lay chuckling madly until his broken body shook.

"Did you think you were special? I've been doing that since before your great, great, great grandfather swam around with a tail! Ah, silly little bi-"

The growl that erupted from Sam's throat- chest- soul was unlike anything any of them had ever heard. The cry Alistair omitted was like a whimper in comparison. The black smoke flooded the room, soaking into the floor, and by the time it had faded, so had she.

.


	20. A Mutual Protection Situation

Basically, Dean slept with his eyes open. They were as wide as usual- perhaps a bit rounder- but he was not there in that hospital room. He was borderline catatonic, no more alert than the girl whom he watched like a hawk for the past four days.

All of the guilt and remorse he refused to allow himself to feel over the course of the past month or so would not be repressed any longer. The second he watched that blade penetrate her tender body, all those feelings- guilt, remorse, sympathy- came uncorked. And he had four days of watching her lie there, with tubes snaking out of her body, to let them soak him through to the bone.

_I will always love you, Dean Winchester. I will always love you, Dean Winchester. I will always…_

The way she looked into his eyes- the way she kissed him- Dean felt that she knew exactly what was about to happen, that she was completely at peace.

_Bye, guys_.

She was ready to die for him.

_Why? Why the hell would you do that for me?_

_I will always love you, Dean Winchester…_

Stubble covered his jaw, fatigue dulled his senses, but he would not leave her until she awoke. In the beginning, the brothers quarreled over who would go on food runs and who would stay by her side. Dean's was the iron will. Sam's tentative infatuation was no match for the forces the gripped Dean inside. This girl had sacrificed her young, innocent life for his without even blinking. The moment he caught her in his arms, he swore to himself that if she kept her life, he would guard it with his. And he was still waiting for the verdict.

"Hello, Dean."

The soft, low voice jolted him from his reverie. He lifted his head and shifted his gaze to just beyond the foot of Lory's bed.

"Great to see you, Cass," he began smoothly, but waxed anguish, "We missed you four days ago when you could have stopped this shit from happening!"

"Please, do not blame me. I had no idea. I was just notified. I came as soon as I heard."

"Well, better late than never. You going to go on and heal her?" grunted Dean, wishing Sam would hurry with that coffee.

Castiel hung his dark head, examining the tiles for a short while.

"What?" Dean urged impatiently

"I'm afraid I cannot heal her."

"You're afraid of what now?" Dean challenged, springing to his feet.

"I cannot interfere with the course of nature… The course of her destiny…"

Dean let out a low, rueful, maddened laugh. When he sobered, the look on his face was savagely irate.

"Listen, buddy, you and your little winged pals Shanghaied her into doing this. Now, you're going to heal her, or so help me, I'm going twiddle my thumbs through each and every single one of those seals."

Castiel did not doubt his words for a moment.

"It isn't that simple."

"WHY THE HELL NOT?!"

"Because she was supposed to die for you!"

It was the first time Dean had heard the angel raise his voice, but that wasn't what gripped him.

"_What_?"

"The same prophecies that speak of the seals… The prophecies that foretold your coming and your destiny… They spoke of a woman. A shield."

"_Lory_?" he almost hissed, his wide eyes squinting in disbelief, "I don't understand."

" '_When the righteous woman, serves as shield, buckler, and protector of the righteous man, she shall go with God in the kingdom of Heaven and her blood shall become his and strengthen him against the adversary_.' It has been written."

"So you sent her to her death?" Dean asked with a surprising calm despite the blaze and sickness that grew inside him, "You set her up to die."

The angel sighed, "Dean, she was born to die for you. Her love for you is so deep and so pure. It urged her to sacrifice her life for yours when she very well could have fled any time she pleased. That kind of love is God's love."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" he asked sincerely, "Is that supposed to make it easier for me to watch her laid up with tubes hanging out of her and a hole in her belly?"

At that point his entire body trembled and it was all he could do to keep from collapsing.

"It's supposed to help you understand…Maybe not now, but eventually, perhaps…That this is for the best. For the good of mankind."

"Fuck mankind," he half-mumbled, swaying slightly, his eyes affixed upon the poor, fading girl.

"You don't mean that."

The look in his eyes begged to differ.

"Dean," mused Castiel, "the only advice I can give you is to pray."

"Why? Why would I pray to a God who would pull some fucked up shit like this? Especially when it's not going to help. You can't change destiny, right? You just said that."

"You cannot change destiny. I cannot change destiny. But my father- he can do anything."

Dean looked up to refute, but Castiel had disappeared where he stood. It was just he and Lory. He made his way over to her bed, kneeled beside it. Her face was angelic- cherubic.

_Not like those dickey angels…_

The skin on the back of her hand was like mahogany silk, and he took pleasure in stroking it. It was one of the nicest things he could ever remember feeling. He laughed a bit to himself at the lie he had to tell the hospital in order for them to let him sleep in her room. The irony.

_She's my wife!_

The laugh turned into a sad smile. She would not live to see her wedding day. She would not live to spend the rest of her life with the kind of man she deserved- Dean's polar opposite. The skin of her hand felt even nicer against his lips.

He looked to the ceiling for a brief moment before he shut his eyes and rest his throbbing forehead against the edge of the bed.

_Pray_…

_For her… Only for her… Dear heavenly father…_

"Dean?"

Narrowing escaping whiplash, Dean turned his head to his brother, who carried two Styrofoam cups- one in the crook of the arm, one in his hand, and a paper sack.

"You all right, man?"

Dean nodded, knowing that he was anything but all right.

"Yeah… I'm good."

00000000000000000

The world was a blur for Lory. The last thing she remembered was falling into Dean's strong arms. If she was dead, she couldn't have asked for a more precious last moment. A face hovered over her- an angel?

"Dean?" she croaked weakly, hopefully, not truly expecting it to be him.

"Good morning, sunshine."

Her vision cleared enough to catch his wide grin of elation just before it waned into a warm smirk. He was nearly bearded, but it was him.

"Am I in heaven?" the girl half-whispered.

_There are no splitting headaches in heaven…_

He chuckled, "No, no yet. Thank God, not yet. How do you feel?"

"Like crap… Like alive crap…But still al- Holy shit!"

She sprang bolt upright in bed, ignoring the morphine-dulled pain in her abdomen.

"What?" he urged, placing a hand on her back, "Are you okay?"

"I'm not dead! Why am I not dead? That doesn't make sense! That was supposed to be my death!"

"Don't sound so disappointed, Emo kid," Dean snorted a bit.

"You don't understand-" she panicked.

He gently reassured her, "No, I do. Castiel explained it to me. It's okay."

"No, it's not! That was the end! I was supposed to die! All those visions led up to my death, which was supposed to be what happened back there, but now I'm not dead and I don't know what happens next! How and I supposed to protect you if I don't know what happens?!"

"Shhhh," he hissed, instinctively taking her in his arms and rocking her from side to side like a weeping child, "Don't worry about it, okay?"

He still barely knew what she was talking about, but he felt it best to ignore that for now.

"I have to protect, you, Dean, but I don't know how-"

"_Shhhh_," he repeated, "It's okay, Lory. Don't you worry about me. I'm going to be all right. We both are. Okay? _Okay?_"

"No… I…"

But she digressed as a couple of tears patted down on Dean's shoulder, darkening the green cloth. Lory knew she was supposed to protect him, but still, he made her feel safe.

_Maybe we were meant to protect each other…_

.


	21. REO Speedwagon Has SOME Signifigance

"Lory, what are you doing?" Sam sighed as he walked into the kitchen, following the smell of bacon.

He shook his head when he spotted the source.

"I'm making breakfast," she nodded with her innocent smile, leaned back with a hand on her hip.

Her stance was much like that of a woman who had been carrying a child for eight or so months. However, her stomach housed a nasty opening in the place of a child.

"Yeah, I can see that. I mean, what are you doing, cooking breakfast for the entire house and/or a small army when you just got out of the hospital yesterday?"

"I figured you guys would want a change from diner food," shrugged the girl, "and since Bobby is incapacitated, I decided to cook. Don't worry. I'm a good cook."

Smirking as he approached, he placed a hand on her hip, softly, slyly mumbling, "I bet."

"Bacon!" Dean grinned like a child- a ravenous child- as he swayed into the kitchen.

Sam jumped and immediately withdrew his hand.

"Very observant," the girl smiled, shooting him a gentle glance, "and there's a couple of different kinds of eggs, and toast if you feel like something lighter, and if you don't, I made sausage and pancakes. And Dean, I know you like waffles so I-"

"Wait- " Sam stopped her, shaking his head a little, "You made all that food?"

"Yeah, it's all staying warm in the oven," Lory smiled, looking slightly proud of herself.

Dean simply raised his brows in amusement.

The youngest brother continued, "And how long did it take you?"

"Uhm… I lost track of time. I couldn't sleep, so I started on the biscuits at about six- oh, almost forgot about those! They're warming, too! I hope they didn't dry out…"

"You've been standing up here cooking for like two hours when we should be serving you," Sam frowned, attempting to reason, but the look in her eyes saw no error.

"I'm fine. Really," she smiled at Sam and then turned to Dean, nodding in reassurance.

"Lory, you're anything but fine. There's a hole in your belly of 'Videodrome' proportions-"

"Sam…" she began softly, "I like to cook. It makes me happy. And I've seen you guys eat. Half a box of Cheerios was not going to cut it."

"Well," Dean smirked as he made his way over to her, "I, for one, greatly appreciate this gesture, Lory. Thank you."

As one arm extended to the dish rack for a freshly washed plate, the other snaked around Lory's body, briefly and sloppily pulling her hip into his. Both Sam and Lory shot him suspicious looks.

"What?" Dean shrugged, defending, "I hug."

Lory donned her mitts before leaning down to empty the oven. Mid-bite, bacon hanging from his mouth. Dean paused for a second, as did Sam. Pajama pants did wondrous things. When one brother caught the eye of another, they averted gazes- not taking a beat to do that "man thing" and smirk to one another. No, they simply turned away, silently agreeing never to speak of it.

"Would someone mind taking a plate up to Bobby?" she asked before deciding to sample one of her maple link sausages.

Dean grunted, "He broke an arm, not a leg."

"I'll do it," offered Sam.

After a few seconds of shoveling, and a few more of pouring, she handed Sam the edible mountain on a tray, accompanied by a juice glass and a steaming mug.

"All set. Thank you. And when you get down, your plate will be on the table," she beamed.

Not knowing what else to do, Sam shrugged with a confounded grin.

"Thanks."

It felt wonderful to be cared for.

Dean, on the other hand, did know what to do. He was forking food into his mouth before he even reached the table.

"This is so good! The eggs are perfect!"

He mentally compared the fluffy mouth-feel of the scrambled with the slickness of the sunny-side-up.

"Thanks. Glad you like them," she grinned, truly content with herself.

He chomped placidly for a while before turning to her.

"Just one question though."

Sitting an utterly towering plate beside him (that must have been Sam's) she raised her eyes to him.

"Shoot."

"Do you bake?"

She nodded, "Mmhmm."

"_Pie_?" he hissed almost in disbelief.

"Any kind you like," she smiled her warm smile.

And he smiled back.

_You're beautiful_….

0000000000000

"Good God, I think I gave myself a hernia, eating like that," Bobby sighed, patting his protruding gut with his uncast hand.

Lory giggled, "I'll take that as a good thing?"

"Oh, honey, you should. Do you know how to let out pants, too?"

"Where did you learn how to cook like that?" asked Sam, looking up from his laptop.

"My mom…" she answered with a slight hint of sadness in her voice, but like a hyperactive child, she piped, "Ooh!"

Springing from her seat, she stepped to the half-open closet. She reached in, and as she pulled back out, she marveled at the thing in her hand.

"Bobby, I didn't know you played guitar!"

"I don't. That belonged to my wife."

"Oh… Sorry, I'll put it back."

"No, no. Go ahead. You ain't gonna hurt it. It's all dented up anyway."

"It's beautiful," she beamed at the gently shining oak body.

Sitting on the floor, legs crossed, she began to tentatively tune it, her small hands fluttering about the strings.

Sam averted his attention once more.

"You play?"

"Mmmhmm. I'm no Slash or anything, and I haven't played in a long time…"

But the melody to followed struck her undue humbleness.

"No way…" Sam gaped through a hanging jaw.

Dean came trampling down the stairs, hands still dripping soap and water.

"I heard 'Stairway to Heaven'."

The guilty party looked up and shrugged bashfully.

"Sorry."

"'Sorry'? That was _you_?"

The second cleft Winchester chin hit the ground.

"Yeah. You like Zep, don't you? "

_Zep… She called them 'Zep'_…

"_Yeah_! Uhm… Play-"

He cut himself off mid-sentence as the girl began to play the first few notes of Lynyrd Skynrd's "Freebird".

Softly, almost feeling a tear come to his eye, he whispered, "How did you know?"

"Aside from the fact that I'm psychic?" she scoffed, "What's the one song that gets requested every single time someone pulls out a guitar?"

"True," he nodded, hands on his hips, "So very true."

Sam's eyes did a 360.

_You've got to be kidding me._

"I've got every Led Zeppelin and Skynrd album on CD in the car. "

"Wanna bring them in so we can listen together?" she offered, her eyes glittering with hope.

"You couldn't possibly get the full experience unless you're doing 80 and you have it blasting with the windows up. It's all dirt roads out here. What do you say?"

"Uhm, sure!"

She rose, trailing him, in Sam's opinion, like a lovesick puppy.

Just before reaching the door, Dean halted her, "Oh- don't forget your jacket. It's chilly."

In one swift motion, he pulled her sweatshirt from the closet and draped it over her shoulders. And just like that, they were out the door, leaving Sam completely speechless. He turned to Bobby, looking for some sort of help. All the man could offer was a shrug.

"I suggest you start watchin' VH1, son."

00000000000000000

Sam hadn't quite given up watching the door and looking out the windows.

"He's not answering his phone and they've been gone like nine and a half hours!" Sam grunted, pacing the length of the coffee table.

"You been keeping count, son?" Bobby asked, trying to crane his neck about the large frame.

"What could they possibly be doing that long?!"

"Well, Dean's thirty, so it ain't what you're thinkin'. Not for nine hours. 'Less he got ahold of some of that Viagra-"

"Something could be wrong. Bobby, this isn't funny."

"Heh, I'm sure cracking the hell up. Listen, Sam, if you want the girl, why don't you say something?"

Sam paused.

_That's a good question…_

"Who said I wanted her?"

"Fifty-something years of experience. She's a sweet girl, Sam."

"Yeah, sweet and innocent and impressionable, and trapped in a car with that sex-addicted maniac."

He could almost feel both his heart and stomach collapse at the thought.

"Well, if she's as sweet as we think, nothing's going on. Move out the way, damn it, boy! I'm trying to watch 'Lost'!"

00000000000000000

"I love this song," Lory sighed, her head resting against the seat.

They had long been parked, and had this been Dean's teenage years, or if Lory were just some cheap woman he picked up in a bar, he would have been pulling out for the second time tonight.

"Ah, Heart. Chick rockers, gotta love 'em. Wait, it gets better. This is a Power Ballad Mix. Sam's."

The car was silent for a moment, save for the clicking of the changer and the sound of crickets outside. Then Dean settled.

"No way! Sam listens to REO Speedwagon?"

"Yeah, I know, right?" he scoffed.

"I LOVE REO Speedwagon!"

"Right?" he faltered, choking a little on his own spit, as well as his pride.

"You hate them, don't you?"

"With a fiery, burning passion," he confessed.

"It's okay. You don't have a vagina. It's expected of you."

_Vagina… I bet no one has ever touched that vagina, huh? _

They briefly shared a laugh.

_…Sweet virgin…_

"I think I lost my virginity to this song…" he blurted, simply following his stream of consciousness.

"Really? Who was the girl? Ione Sky?" she laughed a little.

"Nope. Stacy Sherridan. I was fourteen, she was sixteen."

"Oh, so you like them older?"

His eyes connected with hers.

"Not anymore…"

_Would you let me touch you right now? Your vagina?_

Lory averted her eyes and looked out the window.

"Thanks."

"Hmm?"

He was jarred from his reverie.

"For being so nice to me and stuff. I really enjoyed hanging with you today, listening to music, not worrying about anything."

"Lory, you don't have to thank me," he shrugged, "I should be thanking you. You took a knife for me. I should be groveling on my knees."

_Would you like that? For me to get on my knees for you?_

"Besides, I like hanging out with you," he continued, "You're a cool girl. I never gave you a chance. I'm going to make that all up to you, though."

"Dean," smiled Lory in exasperation, "you don't have to make up anything."

"I do, Lory," he sighed, gripping her hand and squeezing gently.

The tension almost suffocated them both. He let it linger before turning to her, letting his eyes meet hers again. This time, he did not turn away. And this time, he would not let her.

"I remember what you said to me, Lory," he whispered, smoothing his thumb over the back of her hand.

"W-what?"

She knew very well what he spoke of, but she felt the need to buy time- to _think_. And the worst part was, she knew what he was doing, but she was weak. She doubted that she would have the strength to stop both him and herself if it came down to it.

"You told me you love me," he whispered, leaning closer to her, holding her hand to his side.

"Dean, I thought I was going to die. I wouldn't have said it otherwise," she replied flatly, intent on looking straight ahead.

"But you meant it. That's all that matters. You don't have to hide it. I feel the same way."

She glanced back up at him, at the serious look on his face, and she couldn't help herself. She couldn't hold back.

"Thanks…" he scowled.

She covered her mouth so she technically wouldn't be laughing in his face.

"It's really not that funny. I don't see how it's funny at all," he grunted, his face turning redder and redder in a combination of embarrassment and anger.

"Dean, I'm sorry, but how do you go from loathing me to loving me in a week?"

"The entire time you were in the hospital, I did nothing but think-"

"Oh, really? All three days?"

"Why do you have to be like that?"

Sadly, she sighed.

"I'm sorry."

"You don't believe me."

"Should I?"

"YES!"

"I believe that you tricked yourself into thinking you love me so that you can be with me to repay some sort of debt that you think you owe me."

She folded her arms, looking for his rebuttal.

"That's not true! Dolores Fletcher, I am in love with you! Look at me! It doesn't happen often, but I know what it feels like. Every little thing you do makes me smile and each second I spend with you, the stronger it grows! I'm pouring my heart out here!"

Her sad eyes fell upon his face- a face she loved more than life. The earnestness in the creases in his brow made her need to believe him, but the only thing of which she was convinced was the fact that he had deluded himself. The guilt and anguish had driven him to hysteria.

"You don't owe me anything, Dean…"

"This isn't what this is about! I told you! What can I do to make you believe me, huh?" the tone in his voice was mostly desperate, but slightly irritated, "Shout it from the rooftops? Get it tattooed on my back? Nothing I say is getting through to you? Do you need a visual aid? I can make a PowerPlay on Sam's computer."

"PowerPoint."

"Whatever!"

"You can't make one if you don't even know what it's called," she laughed.

"Well…I'll do things the old-fashioned way," he hissed.

Without warning, he yanked her into him, kissing wildly all over the skin of her neck, groping her back and sides roughly.

"Dean, what are you doing?"

"I'm showing you how much I love you," he groaned between sloppy, wet kisses.

"You're bruising me," she said flatly.

"I'll slow it down…"

"Why don't we put on the parking brake while we're at it?"

"So now you've changed your mind? What, are you punishing me for before?"

"Let's be mature here."

"You're the one who is acting like a little girl!"

"Because I don't want to have sex with you in your car?"

He half-screamed, gripping his hair, "Because you don't know what you want!"

She shook her head, taking in the blackness of the outside sky.

"I know exactly what I want. And it's not this. It's not pity sex. You don't realize how much worse that would make things, do you?"

"I don't pity you, Lory. I love you."

Her hand gently swept across the roughness of his cheek.

"Dean… Honestly? I don't really see you being capable of loving anyone but Sam and yourself."

He grunted, quickly turning away from her and starting the car. He was thankful that the eye that started to tear was the one that was turned away from her.

"Let's go."

_And I meant every word I said_

_ When I said that I love you_

_I meant that I love you forever_

_And I'm gonna keep on lovin' you_

_'Cause it's the only thing I wanna do_

_I don't wanna sleep_

_I just wanna keep on lovin youuuuuu_

_*mental drum solo*_

**(Don't own the song) **

.


	22. Open Arms

"What?!"

The look on Sam's face was that of the utmost incredulousness.

"Yeah, I know, right?" Dean scoffed, rolling his shoulders, "Can you believe her?"

"Yeah, you know, actually I can. Dean, you are not in love with Lory."

Dean frowned for a second, fixing his mouth for a defense before he just let it go. He shook his head.

"You just don't get it, Sam."

"No, Dean, _you_ don't get it! I've been in love before, and it doesn't happen like that!"

"Well, last time I checked, you and me weren't the same person!"

"What are you two bickering about now?" said the subject of the conversation as she sauntered out of the front door.

Dean simply eyed her.

"Nothing."

Following her soon after was Bobby, his cast arm slung to his chest.

"Ya'll know if you need some money, you can just ask."

The eldest Winchester offered devious smirk.

"Now where's the fun in that? We'll be back before too long."

"Ooh, where are you two going?" Lory asked with more genuine interest than most people show in anything their entire lives.

"To play pool," Sam answered flatly.

She cocked her head to the side and her gaze shifted between the boys. From her look, Sam knew the answer to the following question:

"Come with?"

But, Dean responded in her stead, "No."

Sam looked at his brother irritably. Sometimes his need to be contrary drove Sam up the wall. However, this was not a case of the antagonist bug. Dean would have been smiling if it was.

"Why not?" she inquired, giving him the benefit of the doubt and curbing indignity for the time being.

"Yeah, why not?" echoed Sam, as though daring him to find a valid reason, " I don't see any harm."

"Too dangerous," he grunted with a tone of finality. "Lory, you stay here with Bobby. We won't be too long. I promise."

"Dangerous?" scoffed Sam, "Dean, we hunt monsters."

"Yeah, and we're grown men. Lory's just a girl."

Okay, _now _she was indignant.

"You know, I can take care of myself, Dean," she nodded, her eyes narrowing at him.

"We've seen this," added Sam, "on numerous occasions."

Ignoring his brother's existence, Dean kept his eyes on hers, speaking as gently as he could, "I'm sure you can, sweetheart, but not against three-hundred-pound bikers and truckers."

But gentleness came across as patronization. Her jaw tightened.

"I think I will tag along, Sam," but her eyes were locked with Dean's, "Thank you."

Before he could emit another word, she hopped into the back seat and closed the door contently.

"You're a dick," Dean hissed to Sam, "You know that, right? All you had to do was agree."

"I did agree," smirked Sam as his brother made his way to the driver's side, "_With her_."

"See, Lory?" Dean began with a sweeping gesture, as if proving some profound point. "Nothing to see."

Her eyes traveling the same path as his waving hand, she nodded. The seedy little establishment with its dim lighting and "Cheers-Meets-Harley" décor met her expectations completely. She knew that there was nothing to see- save for the look of annoyance on Dean's face.

He thought that declaring his pseudo-love for her in the front seat of the Impala and sucking on her face made her his- his _bitch_. Actually, he didn't feel that way at all, but it seemed that way, and Lory resented it.

Dean had been right about one thing, though. It was full of large, shady-looking characters. And a few scraggly, but just as sketchy individuals. The concept was far more amusing than the venue itself. She was two seconds into the building and already feeling the pangs of boredom.

"Come on," Sam offered, holding her upper arm gently, "I'll get you a soda."

"I got it," Dean grunted, clamping a forceful hand on her wrist, "You find us someone to play. Make sure they don't have a gun this time." He turned to her. "Come on."

Happy that he won that round, he dragged her behind him and sat her at the bar before nodding to the bartender, "Two brews and a ginger ale."

Lory blinked.

"I don't like ginger ale."

Dean looked at the glass before her.

"Why didn't you say so?"

"You didn't really give me a chance, did you?" she mused calmly.

"Well, then, Lory, what would you like?" he choked with a forced smile.

"I would like a coke, please and thank you."

"No problem."

But it was a problem. He figured if she thought he hated her, she would have drunk toilet water if he gave it to her. Since the other night, she knew she had the upper hand. She could extort him. She was testing him. But, of course, he was just as wrong as she had been earlier. She simply wanted a coke

"Here, you're all set," he smiled when the bartender replaced the glass, "Me and Sam are gonna be just over there-" he nodded to the line of green-felted tables "over there. Come over if you get bored. And don't leave your drink open. There are some creepers in here. And, uh, don't talk to strangers."

"Yes,_ Daddy_," she sighed

"Mmm save that for when we get back."

By the time she had realized it, he had already planted the kiss on her cheek and was well on his way over to Sam, careful not to spill the beers.

"This is on me, even though you were being an asshat."

"Aw, you care. Thanks."

Sam was swaying and slurring even though he hadn't touched alcohol in at least two days. Dean just then noticed the two large, overtly sweaty men standing at the other end of the table.

"Guys, this is my partner, here," Sam nodded to Dean.

"Fellas," he nodded giddily, making himself look as green as possible.

"All right, let's put it down, gentleman."

Sam reached in his pocket and unrolled a few bills, then slapped them down on the table. The large gentlemen matched him.

"Sam!" Dean gasped in relatively convincing disdain, "That's gotta be three-hundred bucks! We're not-" bringing it down to a very audible hiss- "We're not even that good!"

"Well, it's too late, boys," sneered the shorter, red-haired one, "Once the money's down, you play or you pay. House rules."

"Trust me," Sam slurred, "I'm feeling lucky tonight!"

Sam and Dean's opponents were about as dumb as they looked. They hadn't caught onto the hustle even after it became apparent that they were getting their asses kicked by a supposed drunk and a supposed chicken. Dean had been fighting to restrain his laughter and smart-aleck comments and managed to stay in character the entire time. But then a distraction ensued.

"You got this, Sam," Dean declared absently. He was halfway across the room before Sam responded.

"What?"

The color gradient of his burning face seemed to correlate directly with the concentration of freckles. His most heavily spotted spots (his noise, just below his eyes) were red in a way that might indicate skin irritation, but the full of his cheek and forehead softened more into rose.

The dangerous glint of fire was flecked into the jade of his eyes as he death-stared the unhygienic-looking 40-something who was leaned intimately into conversation with Lory. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say he was engaging in conversation with himself _at_ Lory (or her breasts), because she offered no more than a polite smile and nod every now and again. Ignoring the primal urge to thrash him then and there, Dean took the high (by his standards) road.

Leaning in behind her, his mouth stroking her ear as fully as his hands stroked her shoulders, he hissed, "Hey, baby, why don't you come be cheerlead for me and Sam over at the tables?"

The salt-and-pepper-haired 40-something sneered at Dean, "We were talking, son."

"Well, that sucks, because you're not anymore. Come on, Lory."

His frustration caused him to yank her from the chair more than assist her to rise.

"Actually, Dean, we're not done talking," she snapped out of pure spite, "Right, Eddie?"

"That's right," the man grinned toothlessly, before finishing, "_Ernie_."

"_Lory_, " Dean grunted, pulling at her arm.

"I believe the lady said she didn't want to go with you," challenged Ernie, who probably had an inch on Sam.

"I believe I wasn't talking to you, Jethro Bodine."

Dean puffed out his chest in that way that made Lory get that little floaty feeling in hers. A part of her kind of wanted to see him kick (or try to) this large man's ass in her honor. The girl who spent prom eating Chunky Monkey would have two men (one of which who was very attractive) fighting over her. It was like Christmas…in heaven.

"Boy, I will gut you like a fish," Ernie snarled, sealing his promise by spitting on the floor.

Dean's hand crept inside his jacket, flashing the handle of his piece. Then it stopped being fun.

"And I'll just put a dozen holes in you and we can be like an episode of 'Spongebob Squarepants'."

Ernie flashed him a look that was a combination of hatred and defeat before stalking off.

"You pulled out a gun!" Lory whispered.

"Chill. It's a salt gun. Was just gonna pistol-whip him a little bit-."

"Dean!"

"Oh , come on! Little Miss Innocent- yeah, right! That was not cool! I told you not to talk to strangers."

She exhaled in an attempt to keep her temper, "You don't own me, Dean. We're not even together."

"Yeah, I noticed!"

"That was just totally uncalled for. He wasn't doing any harm! I wasn't even listening to him!"

"I know! You were just trying to make me jealous, which is just sick-"

She laughed a little- akin to the way she laughed the night she almost took his head off.

"Oh, I'm sick?"

"I said _that's_ sick."

"Dean, it's not my fault that you have anger issues."

"I DO NOT- I don't have anger issues, Lory," he insisted, "but you gotta admit, that was pretty fucked up what you did. Why would you do that?"

"To see if you cared. But I didn't expect you to react-"

"Lory, of course, I care! I told you that! But you didn't believe me, so you go and pull this? Did you get what you want, Lory? Is this what you wanted?!"

"People are staring at us, Dean," she mumbled timidly.

And they were. Like they half-expected him to Ike Turner her over the bar counter. His fists were clenched, he was panting- not to mention the fact that he was yelling at her. That wasn't who he wanted to be to her. That wouldn't prove anything.

"Lory, I don't want to fight with you.," he sighed, "We've been through too much… Wait here?"

She owed him that. She nodded and when he returned to her about twenty seconds later, a familiar piano intro was playing.

"I knew it was a good idea to save that quarter for something special," he grinned.

"'Open Arms'…Ahaha, Journey…" she smiled, "I love this song…."

"I know. You were singing it when we were listening to Sam's pussy-_ ballad_ CD." He sounded slightly proud of himself.

"You remembered."

"It was only two days ago, but whatever…" he trailed, rocking awkwardly on the balls of his feet, "So, uhm…"

"Yes," she smiled, "I would love to dance."

Wrapping his arms around her, swaying to the soft rhythm and the sound of Steve Perry's voice, Dean was the most comfortable he had been in a long time. The chub that he mocked weeks ago was the softest, most wonderful thing he had ever held onto.

_She's like a teddy bear… a sexy teddy bear_…._With breasts…_

People were looking at them, except neither Dean nor Lory noticed it. They were too busy noticing each other- the way they felt, smelled, the pace of their breathing. Lory hated the smell of beer, but on his slow, warm breath, it was almost sweet. And Lory and Sam had been sharing shampoo, but Dean thought it smelled so much better on her that it might as well have been a totally different brand.

"_Journey never sounded so good_," Dean breathed in her ear, inhaling the scent of her hair.

_Life never felt so good…_

"_You're a surprisingly good dancer_," she responded, smiling against the soft roughness of his cheek.

"_I'm a man of many hidden talents…Maybe we can unhide them tonight_…."

"_I wouldn't count on it_," she snickered.

"_Can't blame a man for trying, beautiful…_"

People were still watching them. Not only were they the only two people dancing, they were the only two people making out. And they were in the center of the floor. But they didn't notice any of them looking- not the bartender, smirking as he wiped glasses; not Ernie, watching sourly from the doorway; and not Sam, trying to blink away the burning in his face and eyes.

.


	23. More to the Imagination

_**AU: (This is a relatively lemony chapter, so don't like, don't read. But it gets even more graphic in a chapter or so. You have been warned)**_

_Fucking cocktease_…

Dean stared spitefully across the table at Lory, who was beaming down at a magazine. She broke for a brief, innocent smile-

_Too innocent_.

And resumed her reading.

The past week had proved much slower for Dean than the natural laws of time would actually allow. Painfully so. He hadn't fucked in over two and a half months, and Lory wasn't giving him any play. Coyly, she would allow him to steal a peck when she thought no one was watching (though Sam always was) and swat him away every time he touched her too intimately. For the first day or so, Dean found this amusing- _arousing_- but it very quickly grew old. What was briefly a tantalizing game of "hard-to-get" had become hard to stomach. He'd grown irritable, like a moody child. All it took was a question or a summons to send him snapping off. The only things that could even slightly soothe him were his tunes, a few cold beers, and even colder showers. Casa Erotica was futile. He didn't want a busty chicana. He wanted Lory- and it was torturing him.

Sam enjoyed observing this little cat-and-mouse game. In fact, he loved it so much that it replaced his TV programs. It was quality entertainment. Dean Winchester had finally fallen stone in love- or _believed _that he was stone in love. It wasn't with some model or leggy waitress or porn-quality biker chick. It was with Dolores Fletcher of Yeadon, Pennsylvania- not even close to Dean's usual type. What's more, the object of his affections would barely let him touch her. It almost made up for the fact that Sam couldn't touch her himself.

The brothers themselves barely said more to each other than they had to. Their interactions were comprised mostly of nods and knowing glances. Sam knew that Dean was about to implode, Dean knew that Sam thoroughly enjoyed it.

The youngest Winchester would occasionally bypass (by chance, of course) a cracked door and hear the two in their hushed whispers, engaging in something along the lines of:

_"Come on, baby,"_ Dean would half-plead with that familiar husk in his voice, and Sam's gut would begin to turn with the thought of him squeezing at her before she would reply, _"Dean, I told you…"_

"Yeah, but you never told me why!"

_"I'm a virgin, Dean,_" (she would always maintain her whisper), _"and we just started going out."_

"Either one of us could die tomorrow, Lory! Or even today! We're kind of on the brink of the Apocalypse, if you've managed to forget!"

_"Dean…Don't be angry… I love you…"_

_"I'm not angry…"_ he would maintain, but always clearly was, _"And I love you, too…"_

You see, that was the part that Sam didn't like, because Dean was far too convincing for his taste. And then, with an audible kiss, it would be over.

Sam dreaded the close of the week. The time to leave Bobby's was swiftly approaching. It meant they were going back out into the field, and if he left them, there would be no second presence to spark inhibition into their minds- or to prevent Dean from finally slamming Lory against a wall and taking her whether she wanted to or not. This fear was not born of paranoia or jealousy. Dean was a changed man, and Sam was not the only one who could see it. Lory would sometimes turn away from eyes in a manner not unlike how he used to turn from hers. The words "I want you" coming from Dean had begun to sound like "I'm starving."

Dean didn't particularly like the change in himself either. He hated resenting someone he loved. He knew that sex should not have been that important to him, but it wasn't simply the fact that he found himself with a raging erection every few hours. He felt as though he were being reprimanded for days past, and when he had finally had her, it would mean complete forgiveness and complete trust and belief. How else could he gain those things?

None of the three members of the party could recall an earlier time where a silence could be so thick or so prominent that it seemed to have a sound of its own. The car itself was full of noise. Dean had been playing his records for the two or so hours they'd been on the road. However, none of them had spoken since Lory's "Where are we going?" Dean's "Trevose, Maryland." and her "Oh." an hour and fifty minutes ago.

"I have to use the bathroom," Sam declared, even though he really didn't have to.

"All right."

Dean pulled over on the side of the highway. Sam wasn't too worried. They couldn't do much in ten minutes on the side of the road in broad daylight. A few moments of solitude (real solitude, not being stuck in a car with two other people and not saying anything) would do him more good than anyone could imagine. He had tramped out of eyeshot of the car, and soon, earshot, and he was finally at peace.

_Well, I'm out here, might as well…_

So he felt like less of a liar, and because he had a couple of bottles of water, Sam proceeded to pee. He sighed, basking in the wave of serenity that could only be afforded to someone relieving himself amongst the sound of the crickets and the rest of God's woodland creatures beneath a canopy of leaves. He readied himself to return.

"Shake it three times, and you're playing with yourself."

He jumped at the female voice.

"Shit!" he exclaimed, fumbling to sort himself away.

"Relax, Sam. I've already seen it. Five times, now?"

"Ruby, Christ- what are you doing here?"

"Are you disappointed that it wasn't the Pillsbury Dough Girl?" she said, poking out her lip facetiously.

"Leave her alone," he grunted.

"I'm just kidding, Sam, jeez. She's cute. In a bloated sort of way."

"Well, she can't hijack other peoples' bodies like you can, so I guess that puts her at a disadvantage."

"Protective, protective…" She sauntered over to him "You know I could borrow her for a couple hours if that'd turn you on… Nobody'll know…"

"You're sick, do you know that?" Sam spat, turning his back to her.

"Well, you fuck me and guzzle my blood- what does that make you?"

"Bye, Ruby."

He trudged in the general direction of the car before she halted him.

"She doesn't give a goddamn about you, Sam! Do you think she would really choose you over Dean?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" he grunted dismissively.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Sam! Girls like her want guys like him- shitbags that are terrible for them- solely because they're tired of being good. And girls like me- that have been used and abused their entire existence- need guys like _you_."

Sam scoffed, shaking his head slightly.

"You're a demon, Ruby. Not a girl."

"I was girl enough when you were fucking me, Sam," she said in a voice like fire, "or have you forgotten? What? Do you want me to pretend to be a sweet, innocent virginal little angel for you? Huh?"

"Ruby stop-"

But she kept going, grabbing his hands, forcing them to her breasts, over her sides and hips.

"Oh, Sam, I've never done this before! Please, be gentle!"

"Ruby, cut it-"

But her mouth clamped on his, probing his mouth with her tongue, and her legs wrapped around his waist.

"Fuck me, Sam…"

_Fuck me, Sam…_

"Fuck me right now. I know you want to."

_Take me now, Sam…_

His mind and body had finally become detached. He was in the forest, stroking, caressing, kissing, and thrusting against Ruby, but yet he was in a different place with a completely different person. He had no recollection of removing his clothes or Ruby's, but they were both completely bare, and she was making her way down the ripples in his stomach with her lips and tongue, headed straight for a member that twitched violently, but not at all for her.

_But you and Dean-_

"Ohhhh fuck!"

With closed eyes, he couldn't tell the difference between the women. Lory's lips would have been softer and fuller, and he always imagined it to be inordinately warm, but he wasn't complaining at all.

"Shit…Suck it, baby…"

Ruby needed no instruction. She enjoyed this part of their romps because of her hold upon him. He was hers indefinitely.

_I don't love Dean…_

"I love you, Sam."

_ I love you, Sam. I've always loved you…_

"I love you too, Lory…"

The words were just loud enough. If Ruby had been just a little bit more engrossed in her work, she may not have even noticed. Then all at once, the sensation stopped. There was an empty chill upon him and his eyes popped open. No one was there. Neither Lory nor Ruby.

"Shit…" he sighed to himself.

He was more so disappointed that the closest experience to making love to Lory was just cut abruptly than anything else.

"SHIT, DUDE, WHAT THE FUCK!?"

Dean's arms were thrown over his face as the sight of Sam's naked body was enough to blind him.

"No wonder you were taking so long! What the hell is the matter with you? Get dressed and let's go!" Dean shouted over his shoulder without looking over his shoulder, trudging back toward the car, mumbling (but Sam could hear), "Fucking pervert…Dad would flip a fucking shit…"

When Sam returned, Dean must have already erased the traumatic image from his mind as a mental-defense-mechanism, because he simply turned to him nonchalantly and asked, "Ready?"

"Yep."

Sam turned around and looked briefly over his shoulder at Lory.

"Hi," she smiled sweetly but still slightly awkwardly.

_Does she know_?

And then it clicked.

_Shit… Psychic…_

"Hi."


	24. Flustered Frustration

Sam had tossed around an upper-level demon like a piece of used tissue, so he knew could guard himself- his thoughts, his _feelings_- for the duration of the car ride. He figured would be fine at least until he got to take a break from the other two. Then, he would let it out, let it go, and get over it- at least until the point where he didn't have to think about it anymore.

Truth be told, Lory hadn't caught on as much as Sam initially thought she had. She would never go as far as to read him, but his flustered frustration was almost bombarding, but still, its source was a mystery.

Dean knew that everything wasn't peachy keen with his younger brother, as he could always tell. But he wasn't in the position to care. His eyes silently watched the darkening road, but they were glazed over in thought.

_I'm going to get her some roses…No- chocolate! No! Roses AND chocolate. Put on a little Heart, set the mood… And then the panties will be droppin'… Oh yeah._

He glanced over at his brother.

_ All I gotta do is get rid of Andre the Giant over here for an hour or two…_

Sam met his glance curiously. Dean flashed Sam his warmest, fakest smile.

_He's got that smug look on his face, one eyebrow raised- probably thinking about having sex with Lory. Like I'm going to let that happen._

Dean's warmest, fakest smile was no match for Sam's. It'd almost be convincing to the untrained eye.

_God, you're a dick._

_A café-rock-loving-_

_Freckle-faced-_

_over-sized-_

_over-sexed-_

_nerdy-_

_overcompensating-_

_big, fat_

_veiny_

_Dick._

"Mint?" Dean offered coolly- dangerously cool- handing his brother the economy-sized tin, freshly removed from his jacket pocket.

"Please," Sam accepted, shaking two or three into his large palm, popping two into his mouth and handing the tin back with an icy, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Dean squinted.

"I-I'd like a mint, Dean…" Lory interjected tentatively, not knowing what was really going on, but still, not particularly liking it.

"Anything you want, baby."

Sam rolled his eyes, adding another mint to his mouth, but Lory's leaning forward between the seats shielded his disdainful look. Dean's hand beat hers to the tin. Using his thumb to flip the top like the cap of a Zippo lighter, he brought it to her mouth and began shaking.

"Here you go, baby," he said in a way reminiscent of the way someone might actually address a baby.

Before she really had time to question it, the candies were already falling into her mouth. Sam, who had been looking out the window until this very point, emitted a thunderous, forceful, gagging cough.

"Oh, my God, Sam, are you choking?!" Lory panicked through her own mouth full of mints.

Red-faced (a feature to which his slight air deprivation was actually not a contributor) Sam nodded.

"I got you!" declared Dean.

And an overtly forceful fist slammed into the center of his broad back, sending the mucous-encased mint flying into the windshield, where it took its time sliding down.

"Dude! Gross!"

"I'll try to have better aim next time I'm dying of asphyxiation!"

"TELEPHONE POLE!" Lory shouted, pointing to the steadily nearing obstruction.

All three- driver included- closed their eyes and let out terrified screams as the tires screeched and the car spun around and around before coming to a dead stop- across the street, sloppily double parked in the other lane, in front of the driveway of a parking lot. The three opened their eyes and looked up at the post the missed by just a few feet. It ended at a sign that read "The Mulholland Inn".

Through shaking breath, Dean eased, "I think we should call it a night."

The other two nodded in unison.

"Yeah."

00000000000000000000

Dean and Lory lay head-to-feet in one bed while Sam sat cross-legged in the other, on his laptop. Everyone was engrossed in something. Sam scowled at the monitor in deep concentration, Lory popped potato chips into her mouth like an automaton while giving the television her undivided attention. And Dean- he was taking advantage of her absence in thought, his hand steadily moving from its place on her calf toward her bottom.

"It looks like ghouls. We'll know for sure when we get there."

Sam didn't know what kind of response he expected, but silence just wouldn't do.

"Dean!"

"What?" he said, slightly jarred, bringing his hand to rest just below its destination.

"Did you hear a word I just said?"

"Uhm, yeah. Ghouls. Trevose. See it when we get it there."

He brought his dark eyes up to give his brother a chiding scowl, but upon seeing that it wasn't even the TV that was causing Dean to block him out, but a game of clandestine grab-ass, he knew he had to remove himself.

Sam's huffing and the slamming shut of his laptop was enough to get Dean to look up.

"Where are you going?"

"Out."

"Okay…"

With the slam of the door, he was gone.

"Maybe you should go after him," Lory suggested sympathetically.

She rolled onto her back and pulled herself up to face him.

"What is this? A Tom Hanks/Meg Ryan movie? If he wants to act like a little bitch, let him act like a little bitch. I didn't do anything to the little fa-"

Her first two fingers flew to his lips.

"_Dean…_"

Puckering against them lightly, he let out an unconvincing "Sorry."

Sadly looking down, Lory confessed, "I can't help feeling like I'm getting in between you two…"

"No. No no no. Listen-" grabbing her hands to emphasize his words, Dean continued, "Sam has _always_ been moody. Since we were kids. And ever since I've been back from hell, it's been even worse. Don't blame yourself, Lory. You're fine. You're perfect."

She allowed him to guide her weight into him and embrace her, sighing against his strong chest.

"Anyway, at least we're alone…Finally…" he whispered softly, his breath dancing on her ear with each syllable.

"Mmhmm," she sighed half-heartedly.

For the longest., she could barely bring herself to think of anything but the day when he would hold her tightly like this and whisper lovingly in her ear, on top of a big, soft bed, alone….But when they arrived there, it just felt… empty.

"There are so many things I've been dying to do to you, baby," he continued, taking an earlobe between his teeth and tugging lightly. He chuckled a bit, "I hope you don't scare too easy."

"Dean… Do you love me?"

"Of course I do… If you'd just let me show you, I guarantee you'll never have to ask again."

"Seriously," she urged, bringing her head up from his shoulder and looking directly into his wide, green eyes, which showed slight concern and bewilderment.

"I am being completely serious. Déjà vu much? How many times are we going to have this conversation?"

"Why?" she asked flatly, her eyes drilling deep into his, not allowing him to look away.

"Why what?!"

"Why do you love me?"

"I don't know, Lory! What kind of a question is that? Why do YOU love ME?"

"You're avoiding the question."

"How the hell am I supposed to answer that?"

"Honestly?"

"What do you want to hear, Lory?"

Dean threw up his hands, finally breaking away from the stare.

"I want to hear the truth, Dean," she whispered with a soft smile, "Don't protect me. Don't spare me. Don't feel sorry for me. "

"Why are you asking these things? Where is this coming from? Is Sam-"

"No! It's not Sam, Dean. It's you. It's us. _This_- It just feels fake. You tried- WE tried but it just feels fake."

Dean sat silently, looking over her face. For a long moment, he appeared confused, but then his expression morphed into hurt and then _anger_,

"_My_ feelings for you feel fake, Lory?"

The change in his demeanor silenced her.

"The life I've been living- deeply caring about someone is the stupidest thing you could ever do." He swallowed a lump in his throat, which caused the muscles in his face to tense. "Do you know why? Because when you're a hunter, people drop around you like flies. I've lost my brother- more than once, and thank God he's back now, but I can't say the same about my mother or my father or countless friends that I've made along the way. They're dead and gone, Lory. You don't know what that's like. Allowing myself to love someone is the hardest thing I've ever done, because there's always the threat that they'll be taken away as fast as they came. So tell me- why would I put myself through that for someone I didn't _really_ love?"

She looked down at her pants, feeling slightly ashamed.

"I don't know-"

'I wouldn't. And you want to talk about fake- what about the way you've been teasing me?"

"Teasing you?" she questioned with earnest innocence, "Dean, I haven't been teasing you!"

"Cut the crap, Lory. You've supposedly loved and wanted me all this time but you won't let me touch you?"

"Is sex all you can think about? Is that all you want? Is it that important to you? Fine."

Lory whipped her t-shirt up and over her head and flung it to the floor in one swift motion.

"Lory, what are you doing?" Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes, but bringing them back to rest on her heaving bra.

"Might want to hit the lights," she said, standing up to remove her jeans, "you don't want the rest of me to distract you from the vagina."

"Put your clothes back on," he shrugged, folding his arms.

Straddling his outstretched legs, she leaned over, looking into his eyes with a deeply hurt expression.

"Go ahead and treat me like one of the sluts you picked up every time you made a stop."

All she saw was his jaw tense before she was flipped on her back, all of his weight crushing her as his powerful arms held her wrists to the mattress at either side of her head. There was something in his eyes she had never seen before- this savage longing… For the first time in her life, she was afraid of him. But she'd be damned if she'd ever show it.

"So, what, are you going to choke me, now?" she whispered up to him, her eyes wide but unwavering.

He brought a strong hand to her throat, forced her jaw up and back and she gasped. His grip, however, was not rough. It was not painful, but it was firm. It slipped up and down the length of her neck, slowly turning her head to the side.

"I would never hurt you, Lory, physically or otherwise. And you know that."

"Do I?"

He took the curve of her jawbone between his lips for a soft, tender moment.

"You should."

He released her, sitting up over her slightly crossed legs for a moment before pulling her up into an embrace. He brought his lips to her ear.

"I never thought I would say this, but come on and put on some clothes."

.


	25. Old Ludo

Lory slept like a child with Dean's arms wrapped around her, secured tightly below her slowly rising and falling breasts. Dean tried to. He was tired, but that wasn't enough to clear his mind. He couldn't remember being so open and vulnerable with anyone in his life. But still, she questioned his feelings for her. Was she right to?

He lay with his eyes open for what must have been hours, sure that the tighter he held her, the quicker the foolishness would leave his mind. The more he squeezed and pecked her shoulders, the more he felt like he was trying to prove himself. But nonetheless, she smiled in her sleep and held him around her, and that made him smile. It felt good to have someone love him- a moody, smart-alecky alcoholic- so unconditionally. Even when he managed to reach new feats of jerkdom, his sole existence alone deemed to make her happy, and that in turn made him happy- the happiest he had been since he was three years old. And if anything was strong enough to do that, it had to be love.

He smiled.

000000000000000000000

"Good morning," Dean groaned to his brother through sleep, lowering his rasp as not to disturb his still sleeping bedmate.

The door clicked closed and Sam sighed half-heartedly, "Morning."

"Where did you go all night?" he asked casually, gently loosening his embrace.

"Just drove around mostly," he shrugged, arms folded, towering over his still made bed.

"You took my car?" Dean asked with slight indignity.

"Yes, I borrowed _dad's_ car for a night. You weren't using it. I never drive it."

"You could have asked," he suggested with a purposeful calm.

"Why should I have to? You aren't his only son. It belongs to both of us."

Sam's tone grew more severe as a result of bottled words, but more so out of re-channeled disdain from elsewhere.

"He left it to me, Sam," he said through hoarse restraint, his eyes shifting to the sleeping Lory to remind himself to keep his rising temper under wraps.

"Yeah, says you," Sam scoffed.

"_No_, says Dad and seniority."

Sam smirked snidely, "You can invoke seniority when you can spell it, Dean."

"Okay…" Dean grunted, leaving the bed and grabbing his faded jeans from the wicker chair that sat in the corner. Getting one leg into them, he looked up at his brother and said simply, "Outside."

"What, are you trying to fight me, now?" Sam sneered.

"No, I'm trying to figure out what the hell your problem is, and I don't want to wake up Lory."

He slipped into his second shoe, and Sam sighed.

"I wanted a drink anyway."

They didn't say a word until they reached the end of the row, the residence of three vending machines.

"I'm listening," Dean declared with a sweeping gesture of his hand.

"To?" Sam replied nonchalantly as he selected his beverage of choice.

"Well, nothing until you start telling me why you've been such a jackass."

"Oh, I'm a jackass now?"

"You're acting like one. All the mood swings and then storming out like that last night. What's up? Did I do something to you?"

"Not everything is about you, Dean." After swooping down and scooping up his water, he swiveled to face his brother. "Instead of _this_ we need to be on our way to Trevose."

Dean wasn't convinced of Sam's first thought, but he thought it best to digress.

00000000000000000000000000000

"May I help you?"

The man who came to the door of the small, ramshackle funeral home (which looked like it was actually someone's home) was dark-haired, swarthy-skinned and considerably humped over. He looked down the vast length of his nose at the two suited men that dwarfed him considerably.

"Yes, Hi. I'm Agent Perry, this is Agent Tyler," began Sam and both men flashed their (fake) badges, "We've been informed of some strange occurrences at this address."

"By whom?" the man shot accusatorily, his thick European accent causing him to spit slightly..

"That's irrelevant," Dean nodded with authority.

"I've done nothing wrong, I tell you! Did that sea-cow Lobardi call you? It was her who put you up to this!"

Both young men were taken aback.

"No?" Sam said tentatively, "We never spoke with a Lobardi-"

"You gentlemen, come in. I have nothing to hide!"

As the two stepped in, Sam nodded, "Thank you, Mr..?"

"Egar."

Dean tried his best to turn his crooked smirk into a polite one.

"I'm sorry- _Igor?_"

Sam nudged his discreetly but not gently with his elbow.

"_Egar._ Ludovic Egar. This way, please, gentlemen."

"Yes, master- _sir._"

Though Dean's helpless shrug told his brother his flub was genuine, Sam's disdainful look didn't soften much.

The two made their way through the parlor, exchanging wary looks. As many icky things as they had fought, the place still gave them both a feeling of discomfort. The parlor was lined with coffins- and neither brother could be sure they were empty. Every other item in the room was covered in dust- and looked older than the man himself. Old photos- many black and white- lined the wall. Most were of what was obviously a younger (but still not much more attractive) Ludovic Egar with a pretty dark-haired woman that must have been his wife.

Dean frowned at them.

_He must have a freaking_

_HHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGEEEEEEEEE_

s_avings account. _

The other wall hangings were mostly comprised of yellowing oil paintings that looked disturbingly appropriate for a funeral home.

"I tell her-" he began fervently, looking occasionally over his shoulder and talking with his wide hands, "I tell her body was missing pieces BEFORE I open body-bag. My problem? No! Is morgue's problem."

"We covered the Mr. Egar," Dean began respectfully, "but our sources lead us here."

Through another doorway, the space opened up. And though less congested, it didn't improve much in any other way.

"Have seat," the man gestured to the ancient, wood-framed couch.

The boys lowered themselves onto it slowly, careful not to release all their weight at once.

"What you like to know?"

Dean began, "How many of the bodies that were sent here were…incomplete?"

Both boys squinted at the last word.

"Four. I managed to cover up the first three-"

"You weren't going to tell your paying customers their folks' remains got Swiss-cheesed?"

"What they don't know won't hurt!"

Dean raised his cynical brows.

"The fourth?" Sam proceeded.

"The nose was gone." Both Winchesters grimaced as Egar continued, "Gabriel Lobardi."

"Mrs. Lobardi's husband?" Sam inquired.

"Husband? No! No one would marry that banshee! Was her brother. That catty cow has been telling entire neighborhood that I eat dead people! No one will give business!"

"What would lead her to believe that?" Dean asked skeptically.

"That woman has hated me for years. Only reason she ask me to do funeral is because she is too cheap to go anywhere else. I give good prices. Hope you never need my services, but if you do, half off. Just for you."

"We'll put you in the rolodex," Dean smiled flatly.

Sam inquired, "Did you let the bodies sit?"

"Yes. I get them in the evenings, so usually I start work the next day."

"Is it possible you left the doors unlocked?" Sam continued.

"That's very possible," he nodded agreeably.

"You didn't make it a point to remember to lock them after the first time?" Dean asked, leaning forward.

"I am old! The head is not how is used to. Perhaps children playing joke on old Ludo? Really, nothing to worry, I am sure."

Sam and Dean grew more suspicious with each wave of his hand.

"Well, could we have a look around?" Sam asked with a polite smile.

The corners of the man's mouth wrinkled up toward his silver-dollar eyes as he asked sweetly, "You have warrant?"

As the door slammed behind the Winchester brothers, Dean leaned in close to Sam.

"We are SO breaking in here."

No sooner than Dean had his hand on the driver's side door did he feel another's on his upper arm.

"Excuse me, gentlemen."

Dean turned around and saw no one, but then looked down and into the slate-grey eyes of a tiny (height-wise, at least) woman. They matched her close cut, pixie-feathered hair. She was easily in her sixties and in denial. Her zebra-striped active wear suit raised the eyebrows of both Sam and Dean.

"Uhm, Yes?"

"I'm not one to spy…" she said in a way that implied that indeed she was, "but I saw you over at Egar's funeral parlor. I noticed you flashed badges. I take it you're men of the law."

She finished her statement with a once-over of both the boys.

"That, we are," Dean smiled uneasily.

"May we help you?" Sam asked with slight impatience.

She shook Sam's hand over the top of the Impala, and then Dean's, which she held longer than propriety would call for, looking him over again and bringing her eyes to land locked with his.

"My name is Judith Lobardi- I live across the street. I left my late brother's body in the care of that Egar man and he-"

"We know all about that, ma'am," Sam nodded respectfully, "We're sorry for your loss."

"And your brother's loss," Dean chimed in, "…of his nose…"

"What are you going to do about it?" she asked expectantly, settling her hands on her hips.

"We're working on it, ma'am" Sam nodded, smoothing his combed-back hair.

Dean opened the car door.

"Take care."

No sooner than it slammed shut, the wide little woman leaned over into the open window.

"You two watch out for that Egar. He's crafty- not to mention _weird_."

"How so?" Dean asked, suddenly interested.

"Always been a weirdo, but lately…People's silhouettes moving around in there at night even though he lives alone. Shady business if you ask me. Gabriel was just the tip of the iceberg! When Egar told me there was a 'problem', only after threatening him with the cops did he let me see my brother's face. Said something about rats. Rats my Aunt Fanny. There isn't a rat in New York City, let alone MARYLAND big enough to take off a whole nose at once. I'll tell you one thing- it didn't look like his nose was bitten off. It was CUT off. "

The brothers exchanged quick looks.

"Did you notice anything else?" Sam asked, leaning over into her view.

"Nothing that I can think of right now. That ought to be enough, though, right?"

"We'll see what can do," Sam replied.

"Well, if you need more information, or _anything…_" she reached into the gorge between her breasts and pulled out a bent, slightly moist business card.

Shuddering with reluctance, Dean took it between his fingertips and flipped it around out of curiosity.

_Judith's Nail Design Studio…_

He looked over at her rainbow-colored talons.

_Of course…_

"Thank you. We'll be in touch," Dean blinked through a pained smile.

"I'll be waiting…" she waved to the boys as she finally backed away from the car.

Dean sped down the street like he was trying to outrun the bubonic plague.

"I think she liked you," Sam grinned.

"Oh, you think?" he scoffed, not amused

"Unless she just wanted to skin you and wear you, too."

Dean sat the card on the dashboard and rubbed his fingertips together, frowning at them in disgust. He turned to his brother.

"You still got some of that hand-sanitizer stuff?"

"Yeah…"

Sam began shuffling through the glove compartment with a crooked smirk before presenting the small bottle and depositing a drop on Dean's right hand as he steered with the left.

Working his fingertips together, Dean grunted, "Thanks. This should hold me 'til I can get back to the motel and bleach myself."

.


	26. The Doghouse

"Lory! Babe, we're back!" Dean called as he and Sam trudged in, loosening ties, carelessly tossing jackets on beds.

He gave the bathroom door a couple of thumps.

"We're back, babe," he repeated through the door.

But when there was no answer, he pushed open the unlocked door and stepped into the blackened bathroom.

"Lory?"

The panic rose in his voice as he flipped up the light switch, despite the unlikelihood that she could be sitting on the toilet, in the dark wearing headphones.

"Is she not here?" asked Sam, his voice hinting slight concern.

"No!"

Dean charged straight for the door.

"Wait," Sam said, stepping in front of him, "Don't panic. Maybe she's at the vending machine. Or getting some food. You did leave her some cash."

"We passed the vending machine on the way in here, Sam, and she wouldn't go anywhere without leaving a note."

"Maybe she didn't think it was a big enough deal to leave a note. She might be out for just a few minutes, getting some air."

"She doesn't have a room key!"

"Well, Lory's a smart girl. I mean, she could have timed us so we could get back first. She'll probably come walking in here any minute. There's no sign of a struggle."

Sam was more so soothing himself aloud than concerning himself with Dean's anxiety. He wasn't doing much comfort either of them at any rate. Still, Dean took just a brief moment to swish Sam's words around in his head.

"I'm going to look for her," he concluded finally.

"I'm coming with," Sam nodded, his feelings quickly overriding his own rationality

"You need to stay here in case she comes back."

Dean pointed at Sam and then the floor to reinforce his statement.

Sam shook his head adamantly.

"Nuh uh. I'm going."

"If you're right, then she's going to need someone to let her in."

"Wonderful, then _you _stay here and I'll go look for her," Sam challenged, crossing his arms.

Dean's arms folded in a similar manner.

"Except she's not _your_ girlfriend… Like it or not."

Sam could feel the bile behind that last thought.

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I have eyes."

Sam's mouth opened and closed and opened again. Had he been able to conjure a response, it would have been cut off by the knock on the door.

"Boys?" called the voice from outside.

With an acrid look at his brother, which told Sam that they had not yet reached the end of that particular conversation, Dean's hand shot for the doorknob.

Lory beamed.

"Hey."

She pecked Dean on the cheek and sashayed toward their bed.

"'_Hey_'?" Dean repeated with indignant incredulousness as he turned on his heels to face her, "Lory, where the hell were you? I was worried out my mind."

She scoffed, "Sorry, Dad. You weren't even here long to worry about me, I just saw you pull up."

"I was about to go looking for you!" he continued, crossing over to her, "You didn't leave a note or an…"

She reached under Dean's suit jacket and presented a folded piece of bright yellow paper, recognizably from Sam's legal pad.

"You were saying?"

Sam smirked at Lory and then at his brother, the gesture switching sentiments accordingly.

Dean cleared his throat.

"Okay…Well, where were you?"

His tone didn't wane severity.

"I was at the morgue. I thought we could save time if I helped you out by doing some digging while you were talking to the mortician. The hospital is just up the road, I thought 'why not?'"

Dean stilled his slight pang of guilt.

"They just let you walk right into the morgue?"

"I told the guy I was a reporter," she shrugged.

Sam's eyebrows arched toward his hairline.

"And they bought it?"

"No… Not exactly. The guy gave me a little trouble, but I appealed to his better nature," she smiled proudly.

"Oh?" Dean frowned, his voice gaining a slight rasp, "And how exactly did you do that?"

"I sucked his dick, Dean," Lory said smartly, "Is that what you want me to say so you can chew me out some more? I gave him the twenty you left me. I figured it was a more worthwhile cause than a hamburger."

Though he enjoyed watching Lory put his brother in his place, Sam dove for the meat of the conversation.

"Well, what did you find out?"

After a quick glare at Dean, Lory brought her eyes to Sam.

"Well, he says he didn't know anything about any missing body parts post-mortem."

"He could be lying, " Dean shrugged quickly.

"Yeah, except, no, he couldn't because I'm a psychic," she quipped, giving her head a smug toss to the side, "His vibes were all clear."

"So it's definitely Egar," Sam nodded, "Good. Now all that's left is the stake-out." He wet his lips and smiled at Lory, "Good work."

"Thank you, Sam, it's rather nice to be appreciated," said Lory sweetly, but finishing her last thought with a spiteful sneer at Dean, who returned it.

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"And for you, beautiful…"

Dean ruffled through the brown paper bag and pulled out a large burger, wrapped in thin foil. He presented it to Lory with a large, hopeful smile. She took it wryly.

"Thanks."

He leaned in for a kiss, but swiftly, Lory swung her legs around the other side of the bed and slid off it, and Dean ended up smooching the air.

"Oh, come on, baby… You're not still mad at me, are you?" he half-whined.

"Nope," she replied flatly.

"Then gimme a kiss…"

He crawled across the bed, poking out his bottom lip.

"Nope."

"Aw, come on! You are mad!"

"No shit, Sherlock."

Rising from the bed behind her, Dean encircled her in his arms.

"You know I love you…."

He took extra special care to make his breath beat on her earlobe and the side of the neck.

"Do I?"

Trailing his lips down the slope of her shoulder, Dean brought his hands to brace her upper arms.

He whispered softly, "Why do you think I was worried sick about you?"

"Because you have control issues..?" she trailed half-jokingly.

He spun her around and bent to her height with a serious glint in his eyes.

"Because everyone I love…."

Dean looked down and took a deep breath. Lory was instantly remorseful.

"Dean…I am so sorry…"

Her fingers gently brushed his jaw line, and Dean leaned into her touch, and then turned into her hand, kissing her palm.

"I mean, me and Sam- we're like roaches- cut off our heads and nuke us and we'll still be running around…But _you_…Something tells me that once you're gone, you're gone for good. Even if the angels could bring you back, I'm not about to take that chance."

"Dean, you don't have to hawk over me. I'm not going anywhere," she smiled sadly, a tear in her eye.

Neither of them were convinced.

"Lory, I made a vow that I would protect you no matter what, and that's what I'm going to do."

"But I was meant to help you guys!" she half-pleaded, "That's my purpose! How can I do that without getting my hands a little dirty?"

"There's plenty you can do to help without putting yourself in any sort of danger."

"Oh?" she deadpanned, "Like what?"

"Like, you could do my laundry- I'm terrible at sorting. And- and you could make the coffee for tonight's stake-out! Huh? _Huhhh?_"

"Oh, and while I'm at it, I can answer the phones, balance the checkbook and alphabetize the rolodex- all while in a pencil skirt and pumps!"

"See? There you go!" Dean smiled.

Lory rolled her eyes.

"You are insufferable, Dean Winchester…" she sighed.

Dean winked, "The thermoses are in the duffle bag,"

Lory jumped with the audible smack on her bottom.

Sam had been lying on his back, nibbling his chicken wrap with his headphones in. He had been staring at the ceiling, the entire time (why the feuding couple acted so candidly) but little did Dean and Lory know, no music was playing. He snuck a few periodic glances from his periphery, and quickly regretted his last as his brother's groping hand seemed to squeeze at Lory in slow motion.

"Dean!" she yelped.

"You love it…"

Sam's eyes rolled back to their place- fixed on the ceiling.

_What a jackass._

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Dean's voice was stern but not severe.

"Lory, I'm telling you, if shit goes down and me and Sam gotta get out-"

"I stay in the car no matter what," she recited with a roll of her eyes.

"That's my girl."

Sam turned to her from the passenger's seat and smiled gently.

"You don't have to worry about staying up if you get tired. We'll wake you if something important happens."

Dean thought he saw him wink at her and he narrowed his eyes, flashing them between the road and his brother.

"How chivalrous," she smiled, "but I want to be one-hundred-percent up and at 'em for this one. This Egar guy sounds like a real creeper."

A bit more than two hours passed. There hadn't been much talking. There had, however, been several subtle glares and sidelong glances- between the brothers, that is; the occasional "Are you all right?" or "How you doing back there?" from either Winchester to Lory, usually followed by more glares and glances; and her perpetual puzzlement at the unspoken tension.

"Is he even home?" Lory sighed, having long lost her romanticized expectations.

"Car's in the driveway," Dean observed, "Don't look like you can do much of anything here without a car."

"Maybe he's 'round the other side of the house…" Lory suggested.

They hadn't been able to see very much from the window of the embalming room with the dim overhead work-lamp as the only source of light. But as dim as the light source was, it was the only in the entire house- that is, until the moment Sam pointed a long finger at the newly illuminated upper-level window.

"Wait, something's moving upstairs."

Two silhouettes- one, short, slumped and male; the other, long, elegant and female- stood front and center in the curtained window, just as plain as if they were on television. The slender hand touched the abnormally wide face, and the male hands gripped.

"What the hell is that?" Sam asked no one in particular.

"Looks like Old Ludo got himself a lady friend…" Dean trailed amusedly.

Sam scoffed, "From where? The red light district of Trevose, Maryland?"

"Whoa-ho!" Lory exclaimed when, out of nowhere, the two began to fervently caress each other and collapse on the bed.

Dean whipped around and winked.

"That doin' anything for you, baby?"

"How is this happening?" Sam asked with a slacked jaw.

"Right? I mean, judging from that body, she's gotta be younger than thirty," Dean exhaled, his head crooking to the side slightly.

"Or she's a sixty who did some nippin', tuckin'…" Lory added haughtily.

Dean cringed, saying under his breath, "I like the first one better."

"I'll bet," she said dangerously.

"B-b-but, I mean…" he began shakily, "but it's nothing compared to your hot, voluptuous, curvaceous-"

"Shush, Dean."

"Yes, ma'am."

.


	27. Trapped Like Rats

Neither Dean, nor Sam, nor Lory was awakened by the rising of the sun. Nor by the whirring of passing cars, nor by Lory's tendency to kick in her sleep, or Dean's snoring, or Sam's unconscious flatulence. Dean, Sam and Lory were so lulled from ages of nothing (if you don't count the little peep show) that all three had fallen into a deep sleep. Dean didn't hear the first set of raps upon his window, but he jumped at the second, exponentially more obnoxious set. His brother followed suit, and then at last Lory.

At first glance, all Dean could see was the blinding sun rays behind the black of the figure that eclipsed it, but as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes they began to focus. He rolled down the window.

"Ms. Lobardi?"

"Sleeping on the job…_detectives_...?" the woman trailed, taking in their drastic change of clothing, unkempt hair and the lounging young woman in the back seat.

"Agents, actually…" Dean nodded matter-of-factly, patting himself down for his counterfeit badge "and we were resting our eyes…"

Judith Lobardi, who was in a lime green tube top and red hot pants on this particular day, bent inward, but not quickly enough. The wallet was already snatched away.

Sam nodded to her.

"Ms. Lobardi."

Jerking her head toward Lory in the back seat and leaning into the open driver's side window, the woman questioned skeptically, "And is she an agent too?"

"Our technician," Sam nodded.

"Where's your equipment?" she asked, popping her gum.

"That's need-to-know," Dean grunted.

"Okay," she sighed, rolling her buggy eyes behind her winged glasses, "I doubt this is legit- _but_ whatever you're doing, for whatever reason you're doing it- I want to take Egar down as badly as you do."

The brothers raised their eyebrows.

"Oh?" Sam inquired, touching his chin.

"You bet your sweet asses, honey! The bastard has hated me for years, and the feeling's been mutual. So he waits until my time of need-" she began to choke up dramatically, "when my only brother passes on- to make it an opportunity to reap some sort of sick revenge! I want this bastard to fry. Whatever you're gonna do to him, he deserves. Just so you know, he's been gone a good ten minutes. He does his shopping in town on Sundays, shouldn't be back for a while. It should be long enough to take care of…whatever…"

"Uhm," began Dean, slightly taken aback "thank you…"

"By the way- what are you three gonna do to him?" she asked with devious excitement.

Sam began slowly, "For now, we're just going to have a look around…See what we can find on him. Truth be told, we're reporters and we want to get to the bottom of this…debacle."

"That's even better than killin' him! Expose that rat bastard for who he is. I'll even keep a lookout for you…You-" she nodded to Dean, "give me your number… So I can call you if I see him coming."

Digging inside her unharnessed cleavage, she removed a clammy, bright pink cellular phone and flipped it open with a wink.

Dean gulped.

"It's, uhm, 555-37…"

Sam watched in dismay as his brother gave the woman his cell phone number.

"All right. He keeps a spare key under the mat. You all run along inside. I'll be in touch…" Judith Lobardi waved, backing away from the car.

"Thank you," Dean smiled, "and you can call any time. Day or night," Dean waved back, giving Sam a pat on the knee with his other hand.

He and Lory took a few moments to break into raucous laughter. Sam turned to his brother, huffing slightly for a long moment.

"…You're a douchebag."

When the door slammed shut behind him, Dean only laughed louder, stumbling out of his side and letting Lory out of hers.

"He's right, you know," Lory agreed, but with a crooked smile.

"Eh, it's about time Sam found a love of his own."

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"Whoa…" Lory trailed, overcome by the general spookiness given off by the house, but then she stopped in her tracks, her limbs tingling.

The house was much more than visually creepy.

"What are you picking up?" Dean asked, noting the familiar look in her eyes.

"I don't know… but it's some badass juju."

"Should we split up?" asked Sam, glancing over the living area.

"Good idea," Dean nodded, "You take the downstairs of the house, me and Lory will take the upstairs, then we'll meet up and search the parlor together."

Sam looked between his brother and Lory, contemplating protest.

_She's my girlfriend…Like it not…_

He quickly rethought.

"Right."

The couple found that the second level of the house even more disconcerting than the first. Still, the desensitized Dean's nature prevailed.

"Wanna start with the master bedroom?"

Lory grimaced at the dusty paneling, cobwebbed light fixtures and yellowed, peeling wallpaper in the hall and deadpanned, "Couldn't we just find a nice alleyway?"

Rolling up behind her, placing his hands on her hips, he whispered, "Don't tempt me…I will take you up on that…"

"Shhh," she hissed, halting his hands on her ribs, and in turn, the distraction, "I'm picking up something."

"Like asbestos?" Dean asked with a playful peck upon her neck.

"In here…."

She nodded to the closed room at the end of the hall. Pulling Dean along, she avoided the various antiques (urns, tables, busts, ancient oddities) that lined the hall. She reached out a tentative hand, bringing her fingers to lie on the smooth, cold brass.

"What are you waiting for?"

She nibbled her bottom lip, finally gripping it, turning it, and gently leaning her weight against the door. It let off the creak they both expected.

There was a dark, beautiful four-poster lined against the middle of the left wall- the centerpiece of the room- complimenting it, ancient, time-blackened furniture and decorative pieces. It was a standard bedroom outfit, simply put through the test of time. What they did find off-putting was the small horde of trunks and chests placed throughout the room- on the floor, under tables, on top them.

Dean arched an eyebrow.

"Okay, weird…"

He turned to Lory, smiling devilishly.

"What?" she smiled back.

"You know you want to open each and every one of these…"

"You know me so well…"

They hopped to work, each taking a trunk or chest, but they shortly found each and every single one of them was locked.

"It figures," Dean sighed, "What do you say? Can we get a little psychic X-ray going on?"

She shook her head.

"It doesn't work like that. _But_ I am picking up some epically sketch ass vibes from this room."

"Hell, _I'm_ picking up major sketch ass vibes…" Dean walked over to the window, following a hunch, and peeked out of it. "This is the room we were watching…"

Just as those words were said, Lory's hand fell on one of the bedposts and she seized, a chill running up the back of her legs and through her spine.

_The silhouettes now had color and form. The small man was dark with large features and his counterpart was slender and white- beautiful- with long raven hair and large black eyes. And there they were, on that very bed, in the throes of passion. Leathery, creased skin pressed against soft and silken. Short and stiffened limbs tangled with long and graceful. And in the midst of their tumbling, heaving flesh, there was something unnatural…Something that did not belong. This was no simple old john with a young hooker._

_ The young woman- both face and body not possibly older than twenty-five- rolled on top of the almost dangerously panting man. Her black hair tumbled down the center of her back. She rolled her neck slowly, causing the black waterfall to spill over her shoulder. On the back of her neck… a tattoo… a symbol…_

"Lory!"

She was back in Dean's arms, panting against his chest. Very weakly, she mumbled something.

"What?"

"_Paper…_" she repeated.

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Lory finished her fervent little sketch in Sam's leather-bound notebook. Breathing as though she had just been running as fast as she was drawing, she presented the marked page to the boys.

"Are you sure _this_ is what you saw?" asked Sam, folding his arms.

He and Dean exchanged looks.

"Positive."

Sam shifted glances between Dean and Lory.

"Looks like we're dealing with a witch, and probably a pretty hard-core one, at that. This is definitely a symbol of the occult, and I've seen it somewhere, but never tattooed on anything."

"So, Egar could be supplying her with corpses for her crazy mojo," Dean nodded, "Parts for poon."

"What I want to know is what the hell is in those trunks…" Lory sighed, "And…"

"And?" Sam urged gently.

"And where witchy woman is…"

Dean wet his lips.

"This woman…She wouldn't happen to be pale and very pretty, would she?"

"Yeah..?" Lory nodded.

"Dark hair, dark eyes…"

"Yeah, how-"

"And look exactly like _that_?"

Dean gestured to the photo on the wall. In it was the man Lory saw in her vision, only thirty or forty years younger, and beside him was the exact same raven-haired woman, only…exactly the same. Same age, same face.

"Okay, yeah, that's just freaky. This is like some bad horror movie."

Sam put a hand on her shoulder, "Lory, our lives are a bad horror movie, and as of the moment you met us, yours is, too."

"Nope," Dean smiled, grabbing her waist and pulling her from Sam, "there's always sex in bad horror movies…"

There was a sudden obnoxious buzzing noise. All three looked to Sam's vibrating pants. He looked down at his phone.

"We gotta haul ass- _Now_."

Dean grunted as he briskly ushered Lory through toward the back of the house "He's only been gone fifteen minutes!"

"Yeah, tell him that," Sam nodded to the back entrance.

Egar's car was parked in the back driveway, just a few meters closer to the house than the Impala.

"Shit! Front door! Front door!" Dean hissed, whipping Lory around.

Her foot caught in the area rug.

"Crap! Dean!" she chastised.

The three looked down in surprise at the portion of the white circle that once lay hidden beneath it. It was off-maroon in spots. They all realized at once.

_Dried blood. _

With one swift swoop of his large foot, Sam flattened the bubble in the rug and the three headed for the front door. Visible through the textured glass, a second figure approached.

"What?" Lory mouthed, looking between the boys for a solution.

"Who the hell is that?!" Dean rasped.

Barely audible, Sam nodded, "Okay, basement?"

There was no protest. The three made their way into the basement as quickly and quietly as they could. It was like running on tiptoes.

"Is there even a window?" Lory mouthed, using just enough of her voice for the men to barely pick up.

Dean's deep baritone carried a little more.

"There is. I saw one when we were parked."

"But there's no light…" she argued.

Sam pulled out his phone, the backlight just bright enough to reach the walls.

"That's why…"

It was boarded so tightly that no outside light penetrated the wood. Dean immediately began pulling at the boards, but they wouldn't budge. It was no use. They were trapped like rats.

"Shit… " he sighed before turning to his brother, "So, what now?"

Sam shrugged, at a loss for words. Dean then looked to his girlfriend, who was just as lost as he, and began to shift uneasily. They stood that way- silent and desperately thinking for a good four minutes. And then, Sam's phone began to buzz.

.


	28. A Total Eclipse of the Heart Part I

"Hello? Francine?" said the familiar shrill voice on the other end of the line.

Sam frowned "Uhm…No, it's-"

"Francine, honey, I'm gonna need to call you back. I'm having a very urgent conversation with my neighbor, Mr. Egar. Yeah- _that one_. Listen, honey, I'm gonna have to go now but you're still coming over, right? Good. I'll leave the _front door_ unlocked for you. _Hurry up_, because we don't want to be late for the movie. Ta-ta."

When Sam heard the click on the other end, he looked up at his brother and Lory.

"Judith is stalling him. We need to go through the front door, quick."

Folding his arms across his chest, Dean shrugged, "Wonderful, we just have to get past whoever the hell just came into the house."

Sam exhaled heavily, his nose flaring.

"We bolt for it."

"All three of us?" Dean scoffed, shaking his head, "No…There's got to be another way."

"Dean, there is no other way," Sam groaned impatiently, "Unless…Lory- do you think you could rip the boards off the window?"

Dean rolled his eyes, "I don't see any cans of spinach lying around here…"

"With her telekinesis, genius," Sam shot back.

Lory sighed, her eyes darting between the brothers.

"I can… I can try… I don't know if I can do it without making noise…" she trailed tentatively.

"Try loosening the nails so you don't have to snap the boards."

"I've never been that precise before-"

"You're gonna have to try, sweetheart," Sam urged gingerly.

Dean's eyes flickered.

Lory nodded finally, closing her eyes and slowing outstretching her hand. Immediately the old wood began to strain.

"Someone's going to hear us," Dean sighed, shaking his head.

"Shhh, Dean, let her concentrate."

Dean's jaw clenched as he glared at his brother, but Sam couldn't care less, or even tell. His eyes were affixed to Lory.

The creaking got louder.

"Okay, this isn't going to work," Lory herself sighed.

Sam put a hand on her shoulder.

"I have faith in…" he began, but found himself instead touching the dashboard, sitting in the passenger's seat of the Impala.

"Jesus Christ!" his brother exclaimed next to him, "Lory, did you do this?"

"No, I did," a stoic voice began behind him "and one would think you would perhaps be a bit more reverent seeing as how it was heaven's grace that just saved you. And, by the way, you are welcome."

"Oh, I'd say we just broke even, " Dean grunted.

Lory, who had been silently staring at the angel in awe, finally spoke a barely audible, "Thank you," and gently smiled.

Castiel briefly returned the smile before allowing it to fade abruptly as he addressed Dean.

"I suggest you drive before we are seen… I am beginning to regret leaving one of heaven's most valued and blessed in your charge."

"First of all," Dean began, starting the car, "I thought we were in _her_ charge. She's the one with the Jesus juice."

"It's more of a symbiotic relationship…" the angel shrugged.

"And secondly- like I'm going to let anything happen to my girlfriend."

"Girlfriend..?" Castiel repeated with a deliberate disapproving tone.

"Is that an issue?"

Castiel was silent for a while.

"I was about to seek revelation before I had to assist you. Try to stay out of any compromising situations…" his tone implied he meant more than danger as he shot a look to Dean, "You and I will speak again, soon, Dean."

And just as he had appeared, he was gone.

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"Go back?" Lory piped, "Are you insane? Why the hell would we go back there?"

"Because," Dean began, folding his arms across his chest, "we started a job and now we have to finish it. That's how we do things."

She sighed, "They're just corpses, Dean."

"She's got a point…" Sam said with his nose buried in an ancient volume.

"Yeah, and the parts stolen from those corpses could harm the living in the hands of someone who knows how to use them."

"We don't know that for sure…" she shrugged, "We don't know anything about what's going on in that house, really.

"Exactly why I'm not taking any chances," Dean said with a stubborn, irritable finality, "Now, if you want to stay here, go ahead. I don't remember inviting along in the first place."

Lory furrowed her brow at Dean and swallowed the indignity, looking at her shoes. She figured he was simply taking Castiel's chiding to heart.

"I mean, so far, Bobby's book doesn't mention any spells using severed noses…" Sam professed, "And I mean, one little witch versus the Apocalypse..? Weigh our options, here, Dean. We've got seals to deal with."

"Sam's right, Dean, it doesn't seem like there's any immediate danger-"

"I appreciate your professional opinion, but I think I know just a little bit more about this stuff than you, seeing as how I was hunting when you were still swimming around with a tail."

She looked up at him and said flatly, "Don't talk to me like that, Dean."

"Like what?" he erupted, "Honestly? Do you want me to pretend you know what you're doing at all let alone more than I do?"

"No, rudely, Dean, and what I want is for you to treat to me with respect," she said softly and calmly, yet with an undeniable sternness.

"Well, I would kiss your ass, Lory, but I wouldn't want to soil your chastity."

Her eyes quickly shot from Dean to Sam and back again, in disbelief that he would say such a thing in front of another person. Sam's eyes fixed sympathetically on Lory. Her lips trembled as though she were about to speak, but she shrank back, more hurt than offended, which meant too hurt to respond. Sam saw this.

"Dean, come off it, already!" he spat.

"Yeah, why don't you mind your damn business?" Dean challenged.

"Hard to do when you're putting yours out right in front of my face! You decided to verbally abuse Lory four feet away from me. Just leave her alone, already. Jesus Christ!"

"Don't tell me how to talk to my girlfriend, all right?"

"I'm just saying, maybe you should talk to her a little more like your girlfriend and a little less like your bitch."

"Guys, chill, it's okay!" she chimed in, riddled with panic.

Both men ignored her.

"If Lory has a problem with how I talk to her, it's _her_ place to tell me."

Sam stood.

"She just did, and you humiliated her for standing up to you! Which is it? Is she your girlfriend or your child?"

Dean stepped a little closer to him, "And you're just dying to show me how it's done, aren't you?"

Sam stood silently, weighing his responses in his mind.

"Dean …" Lory said firmly, "Leave him alone."

Dean turned on her, "Oh, and now you're coming to _his_ rescue. Role reversal. Gotta love it."

"You're damn straight I am, Dean," she nodded, standing up, her fists clenching slightly.

"Are you gonna hit me?" he smirked in slight amusement.

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to…"

"Is that right?" he nodded.

She raised her voice, "Yes! Yes, it is! What the hell is going on with you?"

Dean chuckled bitterly, "You know, it's funny. I could ask you two the same thing."

Lory narrowed her eyes.

"What are you talking about?"

He rolled his head impatiently, booming, "Oh, come on! Sam touches you more than I do! 'Sweetheart'. 'Hon'. You always got along with him better than you did with me, and still do!"

Through this, Sam was still quiet.

"What are you implying?" Lory was almost too afraid to ask, bringing her hand to her heart, for fear of it splintering right through her chest.

Dean's lips protruded slightly as he finally prepared to speak the words that had been rolling around in his mind almost as long as he and Lory had been together.

"You and him are both brainy… He's closer to your age…You like the same things…"

Lory spoke only one word to keep her voice from breaking.

"And?"

Dean spoke his words quickly, thinking they would hurt less that way.

"Maybe you picked the wrong brother."

Silent tears streamed down her face. She knew exactly what she was feeling in her heart at that moment. She realized that Dean was moody and crude and aside from his physical beauty and the heroism he showed everybody but those who loved him, absolutely nothing like she thought he would be. Just as well, she knew that since they'd met, Sam had been there to soothe every single verbal blow Dean afforded her. There was no denying that Sam was smarter and gentler than his brother, and she and Sam were basically counterparts, them both being tagged by the afterworld. It happened to be opposite parts of the afterworld, but the idea was identical. On top of feeling like freaks, they were both constantly finding themselves at the business end of Dean's mood swings. They were both outsiders. And whereas the chances of Dean ever taking a break from his own internal pity-party long enough to sympathize with them were slim, Lory and Sam already had an almost perfect unspoken understanding of each other. Lory knew this. She knew this very early on. But she also knew, more surely than any of those other things, that she loved Dean more than she had ever loved anything, including herself. Even though she adored Sam, she would rather let his older brother break her heart a thousand times than be with him.

But for even suggesting that she would hop from one brother to another, Dean didn't deserve to know that. So Lory stood there, silent, with her wet face burning, but her eyes, cold.

Dean nodded.

"Right, then. Well, I'm going to go sleep in the car- give you two lovebirds some privacy…"

She instantly regretted it.

"Dean!" she called out to him, but the door already slammed behind him.

.Sam hooked her with a strong arm.

"Let him go, Lory..." he gently said, the unmistakable glare of the headlights gleaming into the room before suddenly trailing away, "Let him go..."

000000000000000000

"Where are the others?"

"Gah!"

Dean jumped and began to swerve a little. After reorienting the car on the road, he looked to his right and sighed.

He barked,"Stop doing that! Are you trying to kill me!?"

Castiel noted the bitter whiskey fumes as well as the the half-empty whiskey bottle between Dean's legs.

"Are you trying to kill yourself? You really should not drive while so intoxicated," he chastised flatly.

"What, being an angel doesn't pay enough so you started moonlighting for D.A.R.E.?" Noting the puzzled look on the angel's face, Dean cut in, "Don't even answer that."

"Where are Dolores and Sam?" Castiel persisted.

"Back at the motel," he said shortly, irritably. He gulped. "Why?"

"And, are you headed there?"

"No, I am not," he seethed.

"Good. I am glad I caught you alone."

"I don't imagine you're about to ask me to the box social..."

Castiel furrowed his brow.

"Box..?"

"Just say what you gotta say."

"Your relationship with Dolores Fletcher...has made quite a turn..."

Dean rolled his eyes.

"Yeah?"

"I am not completely sure that an intimate relationship with the prophetess is in your best interest..."

Though unsure about the current state of said relationship, Dean was ready to inquire exactly why not, but then something struck him.

"Prophet? Lory? Really? Hmm." Dean shrugged, slightly impressed.

He smirked smugly at a mental soundbite of one of Sam's old remarks about his taste in women.

"You may think of her as a psychic, but when one is granted the power of divine sight, he or she becomes and an instrument of the Lord. Dolores is far more than a common 'psychic'. When she has played her part in this war, she will take her rightful place in heaven, among the Lord's most favored servants. "

Dean's jaw clenched. He hated something in the angel's tone.

"Yeah, and, when will that be?"

"I do not know..." the began with a deliberate steadiness, but it waned when he looked down at his shoes, uttering, "But I am told that it will not be very long."

Dean suddenly slammed the breaks along the shoulder of the road and turned off the ignition. He bit his bottom lip, turning to Castiel.

"Don't screw with me," he growled dangerously, "How long?"

000000000000000000

"I should have gone after him..." said Lory, obviously to herself, as she paced the room.

Still, Sam replied from behind his laptop.

"It doesn't pay to go after Dean. He walks out for a reason. It's best to just let him go. But don't worry. He'll drive around, listen to some music, feel sorry for himself, drink it off, and come back to you in the morning with a hangover and open arms...." he trailed before muttering, "Not that I can imagine why you'd want to take him back."

She began with a sigh, "He can get a little out-of-pocket, but Dean and I have an understanding."

"What? That he treats you like shit and you take it? "

"Sam..."

"No, Lory," Sam groaned, shaking his head, "You can't defend him! Just accept the fact that he's a dick!"

"Oh, I know he's a dick!" Lory shrugged, "But what do you want me to do? Stop loving him? You've known he's a dick all your life but does that stop you from loving him?"

Sam shook his head.

"That's completely different. He's my brother- I have to love him. You, on the other hand, don't have to put up with his bull."

"I kind of do," she nodded slowly. "I'm with you guys regardless. Did you forget the way he acted _before_ we were together? Either way, Dean's gonna be Dean."

"Before? How has he changed since you two have been together other than the fact that he hounds you about sex all the time?"

Lory was taken aback, and it was visible.

"Oh, come on," Sam continued wryly, "I only spend just about every waking moment with you guys. Did you really expect me not to notice?"

Lory plopped down on the bed next to him.

"But in his defense, he's gone from getting it at every rest stop to having to hold out for me."

Sam sighed.

"Lory, being in love means being glad to hold out for that one person."

"But a man has needs..." she shrugged.

His large hand encased hers entirely when he went to stroke it. He stared down into her sad eyes. Even while they sat, his long trunk caused him to tower over her.

He mused sagely, but with an undeniable earnestness, "When a man is really in love, he only needs to make his woman happy..."

Lory stared up at him intently for a long moment, sifting through him- his words, the intensity that beamed from his being. In this long moment, Sam stared back, countless things racing through his mind...

_Should I kiss her? I really want to kiss her...Her eyes are so beautiful...Her lips look delicious...I heard virgins taste sweeter...She looks so sad...So vulnerable...She's staring back. Does she want me to kiss her? I want to kiss her..._

But of those many, many things, his brother was not one of them.

_I'm going to do it._

0000000000000000

Castiel raised his head slowly, but kept his eyes straight ahead.

"Based on the prophecies...and the rate the seals are falling...I would say, within a year."

He finally brought his eyes to meet Dean's, which were already beginning to sting. But instead of releasing the tears, he laughed a little.

"Where have I heard something like this before? Maybe, in the hospital? When Lory had a hole in her gut and you said your oh-so-reliable prophecies said she was going to kick it right then and there."

"I never said she would die then and there. Though, I admit, I was under the impression she would."

"Like you're under the impression she's going to die in a year," Dean nodded skeptically.

"What is written is not fallible by anything other than the will of God, Himself, and He has never interceded before. What is written in the gospel shall come to pass. Fulfillment of the prophecy is inevitable."

The angel did not know how to express the remorse that churned in his bosom. He wished he did.

Dean's eyes narrowed with a dangerous sneer.

"Well, you can take your prophecies and shove 'em up your angelic ass," he spat, enjoying the angel's flinching at a his profanity, "because my girl isn't going anywhere any time soon."

"Do not shoot the messenger."

"Oh, I would, you son of bitch, if the bullet wouldn't bounce right off you."

"I did not make this happen, so, wallow in your denial all you wish, Dean," the angel began with a stern impatience,"but do not take your frustrations out on me."

"My 'frustrations'?!" Dean cried out in disbelief.

Castiel sighed, "I understand how you must feel-"

"No!" Dean growled bitterly, his tears finally releasing, "You don't understand a goddamn thing because YOU don't have feelings! I don't even know if Lory even wants to even speak to me again after the dick I've been tonight. And I don't even want to think about what she and my own little brother could be doing right now back at that motel!"

The angel shrank at this.

Dean continued, waxing anguish, the tears falling faster as his face burned crimson, "And I've been driving around with that on my mind, half-trying not to crash into shit, and half of me wanting to, and then you swoop your heartless ass down here and tell me I'm going to lose the woman I love in a year?"

"_Within_ the year," Castiel corrected.

"Oh, thank you!"

"That's just an estimation. I would have warned you earlier on, but from the way you two got along from the very beginning...Her devotion to you is critical in her role, however I did not expect _you_ to grow attached."

"Yeah, well, I did," Dean said shortly.

"Yes, well... I see that I am too late. For this, Dean, I am truly sorry."

By the time Dean finally brought his eyes back to his right, the angel had disappeared. He sat staring ahead for a long moment. A sudden burst of emotion- rage, passion, despair, helplessness- caused him to slam his fist down on the dashboard.

"FUCK!!!" he roared, not from the dull throbbing in his knuckles, but for a hurt so deep that it could only be felt in one's heart- for surely a body would die long before reaching such pain.

Dean allowed himself one audible sob- one moment to fully feel the ripping in his heart- before wiping his wet face on his sleeve, speaking aloud, "Fuck this..." He turned the key in the ignition and did a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn before he sped off. "I'm getting her back."


	29. A Total Eclipse of the Heart Part II

"You're a wonderful girl, Lory… You can have any man you want."

She smiled.

"Even if that were true, the only man I want is him."

* * *

Dean's hands trembled on the wheel. This had little to do with the ungodly speed with which he was moving. It could mainly be attributed his newfound desire to stay alive long enough to reach Lory-

_I'm a changed man, baby, take me back. Baby, please, baby, baby, PPPLLLEEEAAASSSEEE!_

-However, this desire clashed with his heavy intoxication and the fact that he was going ten over the speed limit. And thus his hands shook.

"Tunes," he concluded.

* * *

Sam recoiled from the sting after roughly a quarter of a minute, and rebounded, much without thinking.

"You have no idea what he could be doing right now. He could be having drunken spite-sex with some two-bit hooker in the next motel up the road!"

She emitted an amused laugh.

" 'Drunken spite-sex'? Sam, do you hear yourself? Did you two lick the lead paint on the walls when you were babies?"

"I'm serious."

"I know! And that's the sad part."

* * *

He poked a blind finger at the radio until he figured it out.

"Nothing like some tunes to sober ya up and calm ya down."

Of course, this was drunken logic, which is undoubtedly undependable, and the distraction caused him to drift in and out of foreboding zigzags on the road. The one clear station he received droned Bonnie Tyler through a stream of static. He furrowed his brow and twisted his mouth as though he caught an unpleasant whiff of something. Then, a memory.

_It was the blue-yellow-orange-pink-purple hour before the moon was fully visible. Dean and Lory sat in the Impala, their heads back on the head rests as he clicked through yet another CD he plucked from the pile in the glove compartment._

"_This has got to be Sam's…"_

"_Ooh, leave it!" _

_Lory's hand fell atop his and gently pulled it back. Their eyes met._

"…_I… I love this one…" she uttered tentatively._

_He smiled._

_And he knew for sure._

* * *

"You're right, Lory. It's terrible. It's ridiculous that I would say something like that about poor, innocent Dean and I'm a bad person. I'm sorry."

"Sam-"

He shrugged.

"A few months ago, I would never have said a harsh word against him. But seeing the way he treats you, Lory…"

"I get it, Sam, but it's really not that bad. Sure, he's a little abrasive-"

"Lory-" earnestly, he grasped her hands. "you don't deserve 'a little abrasive'. You are the sweetest, most gentle woman I have ever met… And…that's what you deserve to get back…"

His hand brushed her cheek bone, and she shrank slightly at the inappropriateness of the situation, however, Sam would not relent.

"…So…" he looked down at the small line of bedspread between them and then back up into her eyes. "Let me give it to you."

He blinked away the stinging in his eyes, which left him with just enough clarity of vision to see the post with which he was mere feet from colliding.

* * *

"What was that?"

Lory's head whipped away toward the window, just in time to dodge the necessity of response.

"It's probably some drunken jerk doing donuts in the parking lot. Hey…" He grasped her round chin between his thumb and forefinger and guided her face toward his. "Don't worry about it."

"Sam-"

"_Shhhh…" _

_She narrowly escaped his lips._

"_What are you doing?" _

"_What I should have done months ago, Lory," Sam growled wildly, "before I let him get his hands on you."_

_Lory's wide face nearly disappeared in his cupped hands as he pulled her soft mouth into his._

* * *

_Smoke rose from the bottom of the Impala. It smelled something awful of burnt rubber. Dean's forehead throbbed and his left eye stung as he blinked them open. He ran his fingers over the ran of blood that ran into it from the searing gash above his eyebrow. _

"_Ah, fuck."_

_He stared down at his pants, which were soaked through with a pungent liquid._

"_Aw, shit! Uh!"_

_But a rush of relief and regained self-respect washed over him when he caught the shimmer of broken glass on the floor of the car. And then a singe of pain in his thigh , from which a shard protruded. After performing a damage-check on himself, his next instinct was to hop out and expect the car with a fine-toothed comb. But he fought it._

"_No. No, that can wait…"_

_Dean wrenched open the car door, blinking through blood and sweat to scan for the right room._

* * *

"_Sam!" Lory exclaimed through his tender but persistent assailment on her lips. She would have gotten out more if either Sam or her shock had taken a break to permit her._

"_It's ok," he panted between sloppy kisses, "I won't rush you. I just want to kiss you. God, your lips taste good."_

_She loosed her hands from his and pushed defiantly back on his shoulders._

"_Jesus Christ, Sam!"_

_His brawn still kept her pinned to the bed, but he eased upward slightly._

"_Lory, I'm sorry! But, I love you!"_

_Her eyes softened slightly, not out of requite, but melancholy sympathy._

"_Oh, Sam…"_

"_It's killing me, Lory…" he whispered, bringing his lips to her ear. He kissed it. "It's eating me. I need you…"_

"_Sam-"_

"_I wanna feel you, Lory."_

_His tongue slid up her neck just a brief moment before he recoiled at the clicking of the door. Lory looked over her head. Dean's bloody, enraged figure was almost doubly frightening upside-down. But his eyes looked softly upon her for a moment, sadly… And then up at Sam._

"_Dean-"_

_He bellowed, "You son of a bitch…" _


	30. Flying

**(Warning: Graphic sexual content)**

"_Dean_…" Sam repeated slowly, removing himself from Lory and presenting his palms.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Dean roared as he charged Sam head-on into the bedside lamp.

"Dean, stop it!" Lory screamed helplessly from atop the bed.

The brothers scuffled for several minutes, one simply trying to gain dominance over the other in vain, but where Sam began to wear down, Dean's rage would not allow him to. The older brother gained the best of the younger, bending him backward over the glass-covered bedside table, strangling Sam, and almost as red-in-the-face as he.

"Dean! Please, let him go!"

But it was as if her pleas spurred him on. He wailed into Sam's face with his right fist, over and over, as he held him by his collar.

"Don't you- ever- touch her- you fucking- cock-sucking- prick-"

Sam landed a knee into Dean's stomach and flipped atop him, his giant hands wrapping around his throat.

"YOU DON'T EVEN LOVE HER!" Sam growled, shaking Dean so his head flopped like a rag doll's.

"STOP IT!" Lory screamed from the bed. "STOP IT RIGHT NOW!"

Dean launched a wad of spit into Sam's right eye, catching him with an uppercut, but Sam recoiled and kicked him in the bloody patch on his thigh.

"MOTHERFUCKER!" Dean cried out, clenching his leg. Sam seized the opportunity to stand and kick him in the side of the head. Dean rolled before the second blow and punched Sam in the back of the knee, causing him to buckle. He leaped on top of him, hands around his neck once more.

"YOU'RE GONNA KILL EACHOTHER!" she screamed, panicking, eyes darting between the men and the doors, wondering if she should go get help.

"DAMN RIGHT I'M GONNA KILL THIS FUCKER, LORY!"

Sam reached up, grasping Dean's throat with equal intent. They rolled, Sam on top, but Dean's drunken madness still augmented his strength. Every vein in his face and hands stood at full attention as Sam's eyes began to bulge and water.

"Dean!"

Sam released his grip to go for the knife on the dresser.

"SAM, NO!"

As he brought it down, Lory leaped off the bed, and they rolled together, the force of both their weights propelling them into the wall- _Lory's head_ into the wall. A long gash up her thigh leaked blood onto her light-colored jeans. She moaned, her head lolling groggily.

"LORY!" both Sam and Dean exclaimed.

Sam was the closer of the two and was the first to lay a remorseful hand on her face, but no sooner, Dean ripped him away and replaced him.

"Sweetheart?" Dean whispered softly, stroking her hair back and lightly tapping her cheeks, "Don't fall asleep, baby, okay? Keep those pretty eyes open for me."

She moaned distantly, "Mmhmmm…" but they began to flutter close all the same.

"Stay with me, sweetie."

"Lory…" Sam tried to approach again, but Dean whipped his head around and bellowed dangerously.

"You won yourself a head start, boy, and I suggest you take it."

* * *

The night's events were enough to sober Dean almost completely. The sutures on Lory's thigh were flawless. It pained him every time he had to stick the needle through her tender skin but at least, unconscious, she couldn't feel a thing. There was a minimal amount of stirring before she opened her eyes. Hovering over her was Dean. He was battered, but he was Dean. She took a look around the equally-conditioned motel room and sighed.

"I was hoping that was all a bad coma-dream…"

Dean smirked and shook his head, never taking his eyes off her.

"I was so worried about you…" he whispered softly, stroking the back of his hand down the side of her face.

"I'm fine," she replied through clearing her throat.

He smiled.

"Good."

She smiled back.

"My head hurts like hell, though. And my leg-" she was about to crane her neck downward to assess the damage, but Dean gently eased her back.

"Looking at it will make it hurt worse. And you've got some bruising on your ribs, too, so lay back."

As Dean said it, Lory felt it. She nodded obediently and there was a long silence.

"Babe, you know that wasn't what it looked like with Sam and me-"

"No, it's okay, really-"

"Dean, I would never do anything to-"

"I wouldn't blame you. I mean, I would have deserved it."

Lory cupped his stubbled cheeks gently and stared straight into his slowly watering green eyes.

"I don't care how much you would have deserved it. _I would never_."

He kissed her forehead.

"I know, baby. I know it wasn't your fault."

"Don't be too mad at Sam either-"

"Let's just- _shh._"

He placed two fingers over her lips, silencing her before stroking them into a soft smile with his thumb. It suddenly came to Lory that she was wearing no pants. She looked down at her bare legs, and just as Dean said, the ugly wound began to smart more intensely.

"Ahh!"

"Told you so. Let me find you a bandage…"

The silence was sustained as Dean rummaged through one of his bags impatiently. As he wound it around her once, she blurted the thought that had been reeling in her mind since Sam kissed her earlier that night.

"Dean… I'm leaving."

He scoffed a bit a first, waiting for her to laugh or crack a smile. Something. Her face was stoic.

"What? You can't be serious."

"I am, baby… Maybe I could stay with Bobby and help you guys over the phone, like he does, and drive up whenever you need me-"

His old words came back to haunt him.

"What? No! Lory, that's ridiculous! Your place is here with us-"

"What 'us', Dean? You and Sam almost took each other's heads off!"

"With me, then," he whispered, clasping her hands desperately.

"You and Sam as a team are far more valuable to the world than me and you as a couple. I'm sorry to have to say it, but we can't have both. I realize that now. I'm the rift between you two. And you have no idea how much this hurts me, but…"

His voice was gruff, desperate, pleading, yet final.

"No. No, Lory. _No_."

"He's your brother… He was long before I came along and will be long after I'm gone."

Dean stifled a choking sound in his throat, his eyes began to burn but so help him, he would hold them open until the tears dried up. He swore that he would fight for her not even three hours ago, and that's what he intended to do.

"I will always love you, Dean Winchester…"

"No. Lory, don't give me that. Don't you dare tell me you're gonna walk out on me. Do you have _the slightest_ idea what that will do to me? You're all I have left!"

He was barking now.

"You'll have Sam. Once I'm gone."

"Sam? To hell with Sam!"

"You don't mean that-"

"Don't I? After what he tried to do tonight? God knows how long he's been plotting it."

"That's beside the point. I've made up my mind. The fate of the world versus our happiness…" she smiled ruefully.

Dean glared defiantly.

"And what the hell makes you think I'll want to fight after you've left me?"

"Because you're better than that and you would never be that selfish," she challenged.

"You're right," he relented, "but that doesn't mean a goddamn thing. I'm not letting you go," he whispered earnestly. He leaned in real close, his eyes drilling tunnels into hers, his breath smelling sweetly of whiskey and chewing gum. She could see every freckle on his face, every short little hair, every speck of light reflected in his eyes. "I've given up a goddamn lot for Sam. See, I raised him when I still needed raising myself. I was more of a dad to him than our dad ever was. All his life, I've protected him- killed for him, died for him- Hell, I gave up my _soul_ for him! And even though I'm pretty fuckin' pissed at him right now, hell, I'd do all that crazy shit all over again, as many times as I needed to. But the one thing I will not- can not give up for him, Lory, is you. Because all that stuff I've gone through- doin' it a thousand times over could never compare to what it would be like losing you."

She could almost feel her heart break as his lips trembled and his eyes shined even brighter.

"Dean…" was all Lory could bring herself to say in a faint whisper.

Every question she ever had about the way he felt about her was suddenly washed away by the slow stream of tears that ran down his face. She released a several of her own through a gentle smile. Dean grabbed Lory close to him and buried his face in the crook of her neck.

"Don't leave me, baby… Please…"

"I won't," she whispered back. "I promise, I won't ever leave you, baby. I love you."

He inhaled her deeply.

"I love you too, baby. So much. So, so much."

His lips moved gently but passionately across her neck, kissing, nuzzling, sucking, licking, biting, all through which, he moaned over and over again, "I love you."

His fingertips roved her back, neck, her still throbbing sides and thighs and she moaned, wishing she were wearing pants.

Sucking her collarbone, Dean moaned, "Mmmm, your skin tastes like honey," starting to feel drunk again.

Dean laid her completely back on the bed and situated himself atop her, keeping his weight on his forearms at either side of her. He paused, smiling down at her, waiting for an objection. All he received was a smile in return. His hands gently stroked back her hair as his sweet smile faded into something… else. Something deep…hungry…

"I can be so gentle baby…" he whispered pleadingly, "I can make you feel like you're flying…"

The submission and desperation of his tone…the way his breath tickled her skin…the way his fingertips grazed her shoulders… She trembled. She could no longer feel her wounds, yet she ached. And throbbed.

He kissed her deeply. His fingertips were electric.

"Mmm… Mmhmmm…" is all she could say in response as her tongue danced along and inside his lips.

"Is that what you want, baby?"

Their eyes locked for a moment and she bit her lip, nodding slowly.

"Are you sure?" he asked tentatively.

She smiled and nodded again. Dean grinned, stroking her hair once more.

"Do you trust me?"

"With my life," she affirmed immediately, "and my heart."

He sat back, slowly raising up her shirt.

"How about with your body?"

Lory's breath caught in her throat and trembled. She nodded, eyes closed.

Dean's lips moved to the base of the ugly scar that traversed the left side of her soft belly- a scar she bore for him. He kissed it. He kissed it again. Slowly. Gently. Moving further up. His lips trailed over to her navel. His tongue dipped inside playfully. Lory giggle and sobered.

"Do you trust me with this?"

They both giggled softly and she nodded her head again.

"Mmhmm," looking down at him and stroking his hair.

Dean's soft, full lips traced the waistline of her modest blue briefs, his tongue flitting just above the elastic. He inhaled deeply. He could smell her arousal through her dampening panties. Lory's entire body trembled and she let out a throaty moan, grabbing Dean's hair out of reflex. He emitted a deep laugh.

"Sorry," she giggled sheepishly.

"For what?" he asked, planting a kiss on her belly-button, "I want you to enjoy yourself completely. Just relax, baby… You never have to be sorry with me."

Dean's eyes traveled up to meet Lory's and they both smiled, struck by each other for a long moment. It took Lory a few seconds to register Dean's fingertips feathering up her inner thigh as his eyes remained locked with hers. He lowered his head, slowly, never removing his entrancing gaze, until finally, his lips touched her panty-covered mound.

"Ungh!" Lory groaned, her hips bucking up to meet his lips.

He smiled once more, before closing his eyes and softly inhaling her scent again, this time, noticeably.

"Mmmm…" he sighed, planting a kiss on her inner thigh.

Lory gulped, a familiar wavering feeling in her stomach.

"Dean…"

"Do you want me to stop?" he whispered, praying she didn't.

She shook her head and he smiled softly.

"Good. Just relax. Let yourself feel it. Enjoy it…" he purred, tracing slow circles around her knees, "Let me please you…" His lips suctioned around the wet spot in the center of her panties. "Let me taste you, baby… Mmm…"

Lory's legs trembled and her stomach.

_Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, oh God…_

_Mmmm… yes…_

Dean's fingertips flitted along Lory's sides as he kissed between her thighs as softly and lovingly as he would her mouth. Her eyes snapped shut, trying to keep the room from spinning. She could hear neither herself nor Dean moaning. All that was there was the soft pounding in her head. She could feel her heartbeat in her temples. Then it stopped.

Dean paused, fingers locked in her waistband. His wide eyes looked questioningly up at her.

"Can I..?"

Lory nodded rapidly, through trembling breath, "Take them off."

Dean was slightly surprised but undoubtedly pleased by her eager consent.

It seemed as though all her inhibitions had been long gone by then, and all that was left in her was the desire she had held onto for…forever.

_The dreams…The first time we met… The ice cream… When he held me down… Every time he touched me… Oh God, I want him._

"I want you," she breathed listlessly.

Dean moaned into her thigh. Her panties were on the floor and his mouth was rapidly traveling up her leg, past her fresh bandage, up to the junction where her limb met her trunk, and then…

"OH GOD!"

His tongue traced her cleft, resting on her sweet spot and pulsing on it.

"Mmm, God…" he moaned as if he were feeling what she was.

_Yes… Yes… finally…_

_Finally! Oh, God!_

_So sweet…_

_So good…_

Dean growled, hooking his arms around her thighs, burying himself in her, losing himself in her moans, her taste, her scent- the way he could feel her pulse beneath his tongue. He wanted to fit all of her inside his mouth. He wanted to pleasure every part of her at once. He wanted her to…

"Cum, baby…" he begged in between fervent kisses and laps.

Lory's upper half was thrashing about on the bed, her lower held firmly in place by her lover. The only coherent thought that passed through her mind was _Christ, this is so much better than I imagined!_

"Come on, baby," he urged as she whined and writhed, "I want it."

For a second it felt as though his tongue were two places at once, but Lory realized that it was Dean's finger that gently tickled her entrance while his mouth suckled her. For a brief moment, they both opened their eyes, and found themselves looking at each other.

Dean whispered, "I love you," before doubling his efforts.

Lory replied, "I love you, too. God, I love you! I love you! I- ahhh!"

Lory's eyes snapped shut as her body thrashed and her legs flexed across Dean's shoulders, and her toes dug softly into his back. She thought she might be close to dying, but the last time felt nothing like this. Every point where Dean's skin met hers tingled, and the places he touched with his mouth almost burned. For a long while, all she could do was moan and twitch as he held her.

She felt his lips upon her forehead.

"I love you. More than anything."

The words rumbled through his chest and she could feel them as well as hear them. She smiled up at him.

"I know, baby. I know."


	31. Landing

Sam's knuckles were raw and bleeding, but he barely noticed, to the credit of a combination of deep depression and an amount of alcohol unsafe for even a man his size. Aside from the dull, deep throbbing that seemed to start in his chest but radiate everywhere else, he could feel nothing but what he needed to get around. It had been about thirty or forty minutes since he punched a hole in the wall of the only bar for miles (a biker bar, at that) just above a particularly mouthy patron's head.

"_Try me, you dumb fuck,"_ he said, _"Bone is a lot more satisfying to break than dry-wall."_

Sam's deathly seriousness, paired with his unflinching tolerance of his mangled hand helped the stout forty-something reach the decision that he would simply return to his pint.

And now Sam was wandering aimlessly up the road, on foot.

_When Jess died, I said "Never again"… God, I'm so STUPID! …Is she okay?_

He was just a few miles West of where his brother was making love to- _fucking_ Lory. He knew tonight was the night. He could smell it thick in the air around him, like sewage, and it made his stomach turn. The image raped his brain. He imagined that Dean was doing horrible things to her- being rough with her, calling her filthy names- _choking_ her, and that she took it with silent tears, mournfully accepting.

He wanted to kill him.

* * *

Dean and Lory lay on their sides, embracing each other more gently than they ever had before. Lory remained solely in her bra, Dean, in his dark boxer-briefs. Fingers traced skin, tongues tasted lips- and they would pull away occasionally to lock eyes and share a knowing smile.

_I can't believe this is really happening_, they both thought at some point, but the thought was fleeting. They wouldn't want to soil the moment with doubt.

A few moments earlier, Lory had tentatively offered, "Should I…you know…do you?"

Dean shook his head.

"No, baby, tonight is all about you. It's your first time."

He smiled, and she smiled.

"You sure?"

"Mmhmm. Don't worry. We'll have plenty of time for that," he lied gently.

Now, they were spooning like experimenting high-schoolers, fingers creeping slowly and respectfully, as if Dean's face wasn't just minutes out of Lory's privates.

She could still taste herself in his mouth.

* * *

Between the booze and the motel room, the one-hundred-and-twenty-seven dollars Sam had in his wallet was nearly depleted. He wasn't worried, though. He had no desire to eat, and knew he probably wouldn't for a while.

He rolled over on his side. He saw Lory with his eyes open, with his eyes closed, with his eyes trying to focus on something else. If he lay awake, he would think about her. If he fell asleep, he knew he would dream about her- and _him_… Pumping on top of her like a filthy dog. First, he imagined that she might be picturing him, to make ordeal bearable. Then he imagined it was he on top of her, pounding at her tender flesh. What he saw wasn't tender, like he'd been imagining lately. It was him, not Dean, but still, _Lory was weeping beneath him as he held her down mercilessly, growling "This is what you get! This is what you get! You should have chosen me! This is your punishment- but you like it don't you?"_

He dry-heaved a couple of times, gasping for breath. He couldn't take it. He let out an afflicted, sobbing howl.

_Oh my God… I would have raped her…_

"Poor baby-"

His head snapped to the side.

She purred, "I hate to see you like this…"

"Ruby," he grunted.

"But I do believe an 'I told you so' is in order," she shrugged matter-of-factly.

He sighed, "_Ruby_…"

"What- you disagree?" she scoffed, folding her arms.

The gesture made her shirt ride up slightly.

He snapped, "I don't have time-"

But she cut him off, "Oh, you don't? Because all you're doing here is sitting here feeling sorry for yourself. Sam- get over it!"

"Don't fucking tell me to get over it, you heartless bitch," Sam snarled.

"Well, if I did have feelings, Sam, they would be hurt," she deadpanned, "Seeing as how I seem to be the only person who gives a shit about you right now."

"You don't give a shit about me," he dismissed rolling over, turning his back to her.

With eerie speed, her body was next to his, hand caressing his shoulder.

"And Lory Fletcher does?" she hissed, "Oh, Sam…_Sweetie_… I really do hate to see you like this…" her lips touched the back of his neck as she stroked his hair back matronly, "All over that chubby little skank-"

"Don't-" he pressed her wrists into the bed with lightning speed, his weight bearing down on her body, "you dare…"

She smirked nervously.

"Chill out. I know what you need baby…"

Sam released her arms but remained sitting atop her.

"Yeah? What's that?"

She reached in her pocket and presented a little switchblade before flicking it open and holding it to the crook of her neck.

"A little sweet ambrosia, baby."

* * *

"Christ, baby, I want to be inside you," Dean moaned through a mouthful of neck. He paused and looked at her. "Is that what you want, too?"

She smiled, nodding, "More than anything."

A soft sigh escaped him as his lips traveled over to hers, kissing her deep as he slid his black boxer-briefs down. She could feel him teasing her and she giggled through a gentle groan.

"Do you want this, baby?" he whispered, creating delicious friction between their two most sensitive spots.

Lory bit her bottom lip, staring up into his twinkling sage-colored eyes.

"I want it."

"Ask me for it," he grunted huskily.

"I want it, Dean," she whispered breathlessly, "I want you to take me. I love you."

He grinned, placing his lips over hers and stifling her grunts and whimpers as he entered her.

* * *

"You're hungry, aren't you, big boy?" Ruby laughed blissfully as Sam held the skin of her neck drawn into his mouth so long and forcefully that his teeth were imprinting.

He didn't answer. His skin surged, his veins burned, but his head was clear and it was beautiful.

He couldn't think of Lory if he tried.

He came up for air.

"Make a deeper cut," Sam demanded.

"Here," Ruby relinquished the blade, catching his eyes with hers for a slow moment, "You do it."

With a devilish smile Sam snaked down her body, biting her flesh, making a small incision across her ribs, then licking it. He made another just above her navel, tasted it, and did the same just below. He ripped down her pants, not even bothering to unbutton or unzip them, and Ruby laughed, even as a bit of her flesh caught under his nails. He threw her legs open. Her panties were the color of her blood- deep, irresistible red. Looking up at her with an unnamable expression, he slid the cold flat of the blade over her flesh, causing her to shiver.

"Mmm… Foreplay…" she smiled.

The blade sliced through the skin of her thigh, just inches from her sex, and Sam lapped the trail of dark blood from her skin just as soon as it appeared. Though it almost simulated sex, Sam thought it was so much better. Sex left you drained. But _this_- He could feel every nerve in his body tingle, every fiber in every muscle grow stronger, and with it, his lust.

* * *

"Oh, shit…" Dean grunted in Lory's ear as he eased in and out of her.

He hated to ruin the romance with coarse phraseology, but couldn't think clearly enough to filter himself.

_So fucking wet- tight- warm- God. GOD!_

Lory stared up at his face, mesmerized at how it could contort so and still remain the most beautiful she had ever seen. Sweat formed on his brow as he moved inside her- moving her insides. She clung so tight to him that he pushed and pulled her insides as he thrust.

She moaned softly, caressing his back and sides tenderly, kissing he tip of his nose.

"Mmmhmm… You like that?" he whispered, kissing her lips, "That feel good?"

It felt incredible, but all she could do was nod as their eyes locked. Dean weaved his fingers through Lory's. Her hands were soft and small and felt so good enveloped in his. She didn't mind his calluses. His touch was silken, regardless. They moaned and whimpered in unison, Dean uttering an occasional, "Oh, yeah…" The way Dean blinked while looking down at her told her he was ready before he could even say, "I'm gonna cum, baby. Where-"

"Inside me," she groaned, closing her eyes and beginning to buck against him.

And as her legs wrapped around his back she felt absolutely weightless.

_Wow… He was right. It does feel like I'm flying. _

"Ahhh…Shit…" he moaned, raising his head, his eyes fluttering, "Ohhh…Ohhh.. Oh, shit… Oh, SHIT! LORY!"

Her eyes popped open at the panic in his voice. The ceiling was right above them, and Dean's foot clanked against the light fixture. Lory's head lolled to the side. The floor was a good seven-foot drop. The bed began to wobble a little as Dean rocked uneasily. Lory turned her face to him, tenderly smiling and cupping his jaw in her soft hand.

"I won't let anything happen to you," she assured him with a gentle kiss and a soft caress down his spine.

And he exploded.

And so did she.

And-

"_I will always love you, Dean Winchester." _

"_LORY!"_

_Every moment they spent together replayed in her mind at least three times and then-_

"_I will always love you, Dean Winchester."_

"_LORRYYYYYYY!"_

She could see herself, though it couldn't have been her at that moment, but it felt as though it could be. _The cavity in the side of her head leaked blood and brain as her hand rested on her hard, augmented belly, feeling a final kick inside her before the dark._

"_LORRRYYYYYY!"_

_It was Dean._

"Lory! LORY!"

Her head wagged as he shook her slightly. Her eyes fixed on his.

"You're crying…" he whispered, concern painfully obvious in his every mannerism.

His thumb traced the wet trail down the side of her face. She reached up and brushed away a tear.

"So are you."

They started to ask, but asking also meant explaining, which would unnecessarily tick away at their precious little time together and cause unneeded grief. And knowing would only stir a desire to stop what cannot be unwritten.

_Telling him would kill him._

_She doesn't need that on her mind._

_So they kissed each other's tears in silence. _

_Now resting on the ground. _


End file.
